


Of Ice and Thieves

by Mikki



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Businessman!Pitch, Frostbite, Gen, Homeless!Jack, I Don't Even Know, I'm pretty sure this was somehow inspired by Pretty Woman, Jack being a little shit, Kleptomania, Maybe - Freeform, Multi, Or so he'd like people to think, Papa!Pitch, Pitch and Jack feels, Pitch is a bastard, Snark, human!AU, modern!AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-07-08
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 54,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/770899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikki/pseuds/Mikki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pitch was already running late as it was, the last thing he had time for was a pickpocket attempt. But some things are more important than keeping a schedule, and a lost boy in the streets of Seattle may be exactly what he needs in order to remember that. Now, he’s looking to pay back the favor. But scars aren’t easy to heal, and trust takes time to build. And keeping everything from unraveling beneath their feet, is going to be a harder task than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray in this fandom. So, let's see how it goes.

** Chapter One **

****

                “Watch it!” Someone called as Pitch rushed past them on the street.

                Late. He was so, so late.

                Pitch glanced down at his pocket watch, decisively ignoring the inscription on the top. He groaned as he saw the time.

                Why had he thought it would be a good idea to _walk_ to Lokia’s headquarters, instead of taking the limo?

                Oh, yeah. The view.

                Pitch scoffed to himself. And what a view it was: smog in the air, gray buildings towering over other gray buildings, gray sidewalks, gray streets, gray, gray, gray… and a tree.

                Now _that_ was certainly some excellent sightseeing.

                He just shook his head. He should have figured that Sherri had no real reason to like this place. She had always been like that.

                Pitch wanted to laugh as he thought of what she might say to him now. She’d probably say something along the lines of, “What’s wrong, white rabbit, are you late for the queen?”

                But she wasn’t here. And she wouldn’t. So he didn’t laugh.

                Pitch sighed. He really didn’t have time for this. This meeting could really bring up the stocks for his company, and in an economy like this, that was something he desperately needed.

                And he was still five blocks away from the building.

                He shoved his pocket watch back into his coat as he brushed past pedestrians, walking as fast as he could. He wasn’t even paying attention as a teen in a blue hoodie walked straight into his path.

                Pitch was knocked off balance as he collided with the boy, causing him to stagger.

                The teen muttered a quick, “Sorry,” after regaining his balance, and walked off without lingering a second longer.

                Pitch let out a huff of annoyance as he righted himself, dusting off invisible flecks of dirt.

                “I don’t have time for this,” he grumbled.

                He reached into his jacket to check his watch once again. It had become a bit of a nervous habit to check the time every few seconds over the years, a habit that became much harder to ignore when he was running so very, very _late_ -

                Only now, he didn’t have it.

                His eyes widened with panic as Pitch desperately dug into his pockets, hoping that perhaps it had just gotten swallowed in the deep folds of fabric. But there was nothing.

                He whirled around, hoping to see it lying on the sidewalk. It must have fallen out of his pocket when he bumped into that boy, it must have-

                Pitch’s train of thought came halting in its tracks as he looked up to see the glint of a silver pocket watch.

In the hands of the boy who had run into him.

                Pitch watched for moment, frozen in shock as the boy tucked the watch into his jacket pocket as he rounded the corner into a nearby alley, before a raging fury tore through him.

                _How dare he_ , Pitch seethed. _How dare that little brat steal form me!_

                  And before he could even process what he was doing, his feet were carrying him after the boy, all thoughts of the meeting gone from his mind.

                All that mattered now was getting back that watch.

                “Hey!” Pitch called as he rounded the corner. “You, boy, stop!”

                The blue clad teen turned back to look at him, his face shrouded in shadows.

                “Give me back my pocket watch!” He thundered.

                The boy didn’t even pause before breaking into a sprint.

                “Why you-” Pitch growled, taking off after the boy. There was no way he was going to allow some petty thief to just _take_ one of his most prized possessions.

                The boy turned a corner, vaulting over a chain-link fence as Pitch followed.

                The man had to stop for moment, assessing the situation, before going over to the gate and ramming against it, forcing the chain holding it to come loose (Once he got the watch back, perhaps he would come back this way and warn the neighborhood to invest in a padlock...).

                And then he was back on the chase.

                “I said, stop!” Pitch shouted again.

                Was the boy daft? He had already seen him take the watch! He could have the police on him within the day.

                Pitch grimaced. But the watch would probably be gone by then. Sold off onto some pawn broker no one bothered to keep track of. And he _couldn’t_ allow that.

                Pitch followed the boy, keeping up, as he made various turns, vaulting over any fence, dodging any stray dogs or people.

                He could tell that the boy was now getting anxious; he kept turning back to check and see how far behind he was. No doubt by now, he had expected Pitch to have fallen behind. Now he was beginning to gain ground on the thief, despite the boy’s desperate attempts to shake him.

                Finally, after turning into another alley, they came to a dead end.

                The boy didn’t pause for a minute before jumping up on top of a nearby dumpster, and grabbing a hold of the pull down ladder to a terrace.

                _Oh no_ , Pitch thought, _you’re not getting away that easily._

                He picked up a nearby metal rod, it must have been a rung that had rusted off a nearby ladder, and chunked it at the child with all his might.

                The rod hit its target as it connected with the boy’s hands, causing him to lose his grip on the ladder and stumble back, almost falling off the dumpster. The thief’s hood fell back as he tried desperately to regain his balance.

                Pitch gaped in bewilderment, as shock white hair, pale skin, and blue eyes were revealed. The boy honestly didn’t look like he could be much older than sixteen years of age.

                That was certainly… _unusual_.

                Both Pitch and the boy were frozen, staring uncertainly at one another.

                Finally, after a few moments, the child seemed to be the first one to snap out of the shock, and turned to start climbing back up the ladder.

                Pitch snapped out of his startled daze in an instant as he remembered why he was here to begin with.

                “Stop, right there!” He said, picking up another discarded piece of material, this time a loose board.

                The boy froze in place, and turned to look at him warily.

                “You took something of mine. Give it back,” he demanded, holding his hand out.

                “Yeah…” the boy said, speaking for the first time. “How about, _no_.”

                Pitch couldn’t help but notice for the first time that the child was barefoot. That threw him for a loop.

                What was a kid doing out in the freezing cold, without shoes?

                Pitch shook his head. But he couldn’t dwell on that now. Now, he had other things to take care of.

                “Let me rephrase that,” Pitch droned, crossing his arms. “Either you give me back my pocket watch, or I will call the police.”

                The boy snorted. “Do you honestly believe the police will waste their time looking for some random kid, in a city full of random kids? They’d never be able to catch me.”

                “Are you so willing to bet on that?” Pitch challenged. “I doubt it’d be that hard. You hardly blend into a crowd with hair like that.”

                The kid just rolled his eyes. “Why do you want this thing back so bad, anyway?” He asked, holding up the pocket watch. Pitch made a step forward, almost as if to grab for it, but the boy just held it out of reach. He examined Pitch with a critical eye. “From the looks of it you could probably easily afford another one. Who knows, maybe this time you could buy one that’s solid gold,” he mocked.

                Pitch grit his teeth as the boy fiddled with the pocket watch; _his_ pocket watch. “I _can’t_ replace it,” he growled. “It was a gift from my daughter. Now give it _back_!”

                Just then, the latch to the pocket watch sprung open, causing Pitch to take another step forward.

                But the boy just paused, no doubt staring at the inscription on the inner lid of the silver watch. He looked back up at the pale man, expression seeming almost raw, then glanced back down at the object in his hands.

                Finally, the boy made a noise of disgust, before tossing the watch in Pitch’s general direction.

                Pitch darted forward, catching his pocket watch just in time to prevent it from falling to the concrete ground.

                “Fine,” the boy said, clearly exasperated. “If the stupid little watch means _that_ much to you, just take it. It’s not worth it.”

                Pitch glanced up just in time to see the boy already making his way up the pull down ladder, bare feet curling around the freezing metal rungs.

                He felt genuinely confused. He honestly hadn’t believed it would be so easy to get the boy to give the watch up.

               “Wait, where are going?” Pitch asked, confused (though he wasn’t sure why. Shouldn’t he _want_ the boy gone?).

                The child just grinned down at him. “I have places to be. I’d say nice meeting you, but that’d be a lie.” The kid shrugged. “So, see you later, Mr. Stockbroker. Or, you know, _not_.”

               Pitch just watched as the boy disappeared up onto the roof of the building.

              That was certainly an odd encounter…

               He sighed as he looked down at the pocket watch in his hands. He was glad that he had it back. If he had ever lost it… well, he didn’t know what he’d do.

               Eventually, after a moment longer of standing there, he turned back, and began heading on his way. The Lokia building was now more than five blocks away, but he wasn’t in any rush at the moment. They could wait for a while longer, while he just enjoyed a stroll.

             And as he rounded the bend, coming out of the alleyway, Pitch couldn’t help but noticed that it had now lightly begun to snow.

 

               


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As fate would have it, that was hardly the last time Pitch would encounter the strange boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's Chapter Two!

** Chapter Two **

 

 

  Pitch leaned back in the leather seat, hoping to get a few minutes of relaxation. It had been a very long day. He sighed as he turned to look out the window, watching the streetlights and darkening alleys flash by.

Pitch started suddenly as a flash of white hair and blue caught his eye in one of the passing alleyways.

“Stop the car!” Pitch called abruptly, causing the driver to slam on the brakes.

The driver turned towards him, looking alarmed. “Mr.Black? Is something the matter?” He inquired.

Boris had turned to look at him through the open privacy window as well, his hand positioned at his hip, obviously believing his boss to have sensed some danger he’d missed.

Pitch just frowned, looking out the car window.

“Go back a bit,” he ordered.

Boris land the driver glanced at each other quizzically, before the driver just shrugged before putting the vehicle in reverse, slowly backing up.

Pitch watched as they eased past the alleyways they had just gone by only a minute ago, before he once again caught sight of the familiar white head of hair and blue hoodie.

“Stop,” Pitch said as he sat up straight, surveying the scene in front of him.

It was hard to tell what exactly was happening in the little daylight remaining, but it looked as if two people had ganged up on the boy, one of them clutching him from behind.

Pitch reached for the door, frowning. But he stopped as his hand came to rest on the door handle.

What was he doing? Whatever was going on now was none of his business. He shouldn’t bother himself with getting involved in any of this. It would probably be a smarter choice to just call the police anyway. Not to mention the fact that he hardly owed anything to the little thief…

Yet here he was about to seek the boy out.

The strange boy with the white hair. The boy who walked around barefoot in the freezing snow , and gave him back his pocket watch as soon as Pitch confronted him, instead of giving chase.

He was curious, Pitch realized, holding back an annoyed groan. He was curious about the damn brat. Meaning he wasn’t going to stop dwelling on the pointless encounter until he found some sort of satisfactory answer to all his questions.

Besides, the boy seemed to be in trouble, and if he walked away now…

Sad green eyes, refusing to meet his own, flashed through his mind’s eye.

Seraphina would be so disappointed in him.

_Damn…_ , Pitch sighed to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Sir?” Boris asked, obviously on edge.

Pitch took a deep breath before turning to his body guard.

“Could you please accompany me on this quick escapade, Boris? I have a feeling I’m going to be needing your assistance,” Pitch said gravely, throwing the car door open and steeping out.

Boris followed his lead as he shut the car door, and slunk towards the mouth of the alley. He wanted to gauge what he’d be jumping into before he did anything rash.

Boris glanced at him, obviously still at a loss as his boss hid in the shadows of the surrounding buildings, watching from behind the brick wall.

Pitch was just about to signal him to stay quiet and wait, when a voice suddenly caught his attention.

“What do you mean, you _lost_ it?” A voice snarled.

Pitch turned to look down the alley, observing as the scene unfolded.

Two men stood with the boy. The burlier of the two, who had tattoos tracking up his thick, exposed arms, had the kid’s arms pinned behind his back; while a smaller, lither man who was far more practically dressed, towered over the boy, snarling in his face. 

 The boy just rolled his eyes, seemingly unfazed.

 “I mean,” the boy replied slowly, as if talking to a child, “that I had it, and now, I don’t. Ergo: I lost it."

 The burly man growled in aggravation, twisting the boy’s arm further, causing him to flinch violently.

 “Don’t get smart with me, you little shit,” the man sneered. “I meant, _how’d_ you lose it.”

 The boy tried to jerk himself free once more, but the man didn’t budge. Finally, he just sighed in agitation.

“Look, I managed to swipe this really nice pocket watch off some new guy in town. Real fancy, made of real silver, had gold cresting and everything. But somehow the guy I lifted it off of caught me.”

The two men continued to glare down at him.

“He was going to call the cops!” The kid explained. “What did you want me to do?”

“I wanted you to get me the goods, Frost,” the lithe man spat, poking him in the chest.

_Frost?_ Pitch wondered to himself.

He supposed that must be what the boy went by…

“And I _did_ ,” Frost replied, emphatically. “I just ran into a speed bump.”

The man holding the boy spoke up this time. “This ain’t the first time these past few weeks that you haven’t been able to deliver,” he growled.

The boy blew his white bangs away from his face, clearly irritated. “Hey, I’m trying alright? But people around this part of town are getting suspicious of me, and it’s not like I blend into a crowd. They’re getting smarter around me. What do you want me to do?”

“Need I remind you that we have a deal, Frost,” the smaller man demanded. “And if you’re not holding up you’re end of the bargain-”

Frost grimaced. “Don’t worry, I’ll make up the difference. It’s just been a slow couple of weeks. I’ll get you the rest of the money next month, start going out into the city more or something.”

“You know,” the man said, stroking his goatee in mock consideration as he stared the kid down, “I’m starting to think you ain’t worth the pay off, Frost,” the man smirked. “Actually, I think I could probably get a better haul just by passin’ you off.”

“Yeah,” the burly man cut in, a fist grabbing the boy’s snowy hair and wrenching it back, forcing him to meet his gaze. “See, word on the street is Rodney’s lookin’ for some fresh meat. Willing to pay big for whoever can get him some. And we ain’t the only ones who seem to think you’d make a perfect little bitch for his clients.

Pitch balked in horror as realization dawned on him. They couldn’t possibly be talking about what it sounded like, could they?

The boy’s eyes widened in alarm as he began struggling to free himself again.

 “Yeah,” the lithe man continued, “and the deal was, we don’t sell ya off to Rod, if you brought in more profit than he can give us.”

The bigger man smirked down at the young boy. “So really, we’re just holding up the _other_ end of the deal.”

Frost’s panicked gaze suddenly turned cold as he glanced up at the burly man, before snapping his elbow back, hard, and kicking backwards, trying to pull himself from his grip.

The burly man stumbled as the boy quickly freed himself, darting forwards. But he wasn’t quick enough to escape the fast reflexes of the smaller man.

The man nabbed the back of the boy’s hoodie, wrenching him backwards, as the burly man straightened up and grabbed for him, twisting his hand into the child’s hair.

Pitch watched, frozen and horrified as the burly man held the boy in place, while the smaller rammed his fist into Frost’s stomach.

The kid doubled over with a pained groan, as the man raised his fist once more, about to strike.

Pitch didn’t even think before moving.

He wasn’t entirely sure how he got there, but he was now standing in the mouth of the alley, looking on the scene as his voice echoed through the brick buildings.

“Enough!”

The three struggling figures immediately froze in place, looking back at him like a deer in the headlights.

A moment of tense silence passed that seemed to last eons as Pitch took note of everything; of Boris with his back still against the wall, hand on the gun at his hip; of Frost, as the boy’s eyes gradually widened in bewildered recognition; and of the two thugs, as they slowly straightened their posture, snarls curling their lips as they realized he was merely an unassuming intruder.

Finally, as the moment passed, and before anyone else could speak up, Pitch’s eerily calm voice drifted through the silent alley.

“Let the boy go.”

The thugs finally snapped out of their stupor and snarled at him. The smaller of the two turned on him, his hand reaching in his pocket.

“Move along, Slick,” he sneered. “This ain’t any of your business.”

An unctuous grin crossed the man’s face as he flicked a switch blade out of his pocket, its silver shaft glinting in the dim moonlight.

The bigger of the men snickered, while Frost continued to stare at him, slightly panicked and extremely nonplussed.

But Pitch just gazed at the man with cold disdain.

“Oh, an incredibly small knife wielded by a buffoon with limited mental capacity,” he intoned drily, “I’m terrified.”

And with that, he made a small motion, signaling Boris to step in.

The man took a menacing step forward, “Why you little-”

The sound of the safety clicking off Boris’s gun as he slid into position next to his boss silenced the man.

Boris stared down the two men, his dark shades glinting in the setting sun, and his gun unwavering as he aimed it at the man holding the knife.

The thugs once again froze, eyes widening in panic. The smaller man steeped back in alarm.

“Now,” Pitch cut in, an oily smirk donning his features, “let’s try this again. Let the boy, _go._ ”

The two men glanced at each other, fear in their eyes, as the boy looked on in disbelief.

Finally, the men backed up, as the larger threw the boy onto the snow covered concrete.

“Fine,” the smaller man said, spitting in his direction. “You want the brat so bad, take im’.”

The two retreated quickly, careful to never turn their backs to Boris. But not before the larger turned to Frost one last time, saying, “It ain’t that big a city, Frost. Don’t think we won’t find you.”

And with that, they were gone, scrambling around the back alley with their tails between their legs.

Pitch sighed as the men turned out of sight, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you, Boris. It’s fine now,” he said, turning to the body guard.

The man just nodded before clicking the safety back on the gun, setting it back in his holster.

Pitch glanced back at the boy, who was currently picking himself up off the ground still looked rather lost, with a frown. He had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be easy…

With a determined stride, Pitch approached the boy, offering his hand in helping the boy to hhis feet.

Frost watched him warily for a moment before his eyes narrowed in suspicion. He stood up, knocking away the man’s proffered hand.

“What are you _doing_ here?” The boy demanded as he brushed himself off.

Pitch regarded him wryly. “Helping you?”

“Why?” He asked cagily. “I gave you back your watch. I didn’t take anything else.”

Pitch raised a brow in confusion. “It merely looked like you needed help.”

Frost pinned him with an icy gaze before brushing past him and Boris.

“Well, I didn’t.”

Pitch followed after him, glaring at the boy, feeling slightly irked.

“You know, most people usually _thank_ others for helping them. I think we both know you’d be in a less desirable situation right now if I hadn’t stepped in.”

The boy glanced back at him over his shoulder, frowning as he rounded the corner of the alley onto the sidewalk. “I had it handled.”

Pitch scoffed. “Oh yes,” he deadpanned, “it looked like you had everything under control.”

The boy just shot him a quick glare before continuing down the sidewalk.

Pitch realized, at the last moment, that they were about to pass the limo.

“Wait,” he said, quickening his strides and stopping the boy with a hand on his shoulder. “Where are you going? I can give you a ride,” he nodded to the limo parked on the curb.

The boy’s eyebrows shot up in incredulity as his gaze darted between Pitch and the limo. Finally, after a pregnant pause, he snorted, “You’re kidding right?”

“Pardon?”

“You realize this is pretty much exactly the sort of stranger danger situation kids are taught to avoid right? Only difference is the limo, instead of a white van.” The boy smirked. “Props for originality though. Wasn’t expecting that.”

Pitch gazed at the boy, face coldly impassive, and voice monotone as he droned, “Judging from your previous situation, I hardly believe you’ve usually taken heed of that advice in the past.”

The boy’s expression instantly shifted from the lightly mocking smirk, to a viciously guarded glare. “You know what,” Frost snapped, “screw you.”

And with that the boy turned on heel and stormed off-

Only to again be stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

Frost knocked Pitch’s hand away, and turned back to glare at him.

Pitch just sighed as he regarded the boy. “Listen. I mean you no harm. I’m trying to help you!” He gestured towards the alleyway they had just come from. “I’m merely offering you a ride home, away from the cold.”

Frost considered him with narrowed eyes. “Why?” He finally asked.

Pitch blinked. “I just told-”

“No,” the boy cut in, shaking his head. “Why are you bothering with any of this? I _stole_ from you. And I was planning on giving it to those bastards back there. It’s not exactly normal to cast yourself as the ‘helpful hero’ to the kid who rooked you. Helping me out in the alley was one thing, (You’re a decent human being, hooray!), but now your offering me a _ride_?” He gestured absently, frustrated and at a loss. “So, _why_? What do you _want_?”

Pitch just shrugged. “I suppose you merely piqued my curiosity. I wanted to ask something of you, and I figured it’d be more comfortable to do so in the privacy of a warm car.”

But instead of placating the boy, he froze up, expression once again turning icy. “If you’re wanting to request I somehow ‘return the favor,’ for you bailing me out back there, then sorry to disappoint but it’s not happening.”

Pitch observed the boy in confusion. “Return the- What do you-” He broke off as he fully processed the boy’s meaning. The child thought he meant he wanted something from him, wanted him to do something for him.

And from what he had just witness back in the alley, Pitch could guess what sort of ‘favors’ people typically asked of the boy.

Nothing legal, that much was for certain.

“No,” Pitch said tiredly, shaking his head.

Frost just tilted his head in question.

“No,” Pitch repeated. “I merely wanted to talk with you.”

“That’s it?” The boy asked, wary.

“Yes,” Pitch nodded. “So,” he gestured toward the limo again, “would you like a ride?

Frost seemed to consider him for a moment, looking as if he was genuinely giving it a true thought.

Then, he just laughed, startling Pitch as he said, “Nope. I’m fine with just walking. Besides, I like the cold.” The boy smirked then turned to walk away once more.

Pitch felt like screaming in frustration. Now the child was purposely being difficult.

Fine. The boy wanted to be stubborn? Two could play at that game.

“Alright then,” he said, as he quickly caught up to the boy, gesturing to a confused Boris to stay put. “In that case, I’ll just accompany you.”

The boy paused, glancing back at him incredulously.

Frost shook his head. “Wow. You just don’t give up do you? Dude, _take the hint_.” 

Pitch brushed off the boy’s comment. “I’m merely walking next to you, nothing against that. If you wish to talk _with_ me that’s entirely your choice.”

The boy just gave a huff of annoyance, running his fingers through his snowy hair.

“Whatever,” he said finally, before continuing on his way, his bare feet barely making a sound against the snow covered concrete.

“Is there a reason why you are so opposed to my presence?” Pitch asked.

“You mean besides your shady appearance, superior demeanor, uptight body guard, and the fact that you _won’t leave me alone_?” The boy snarked. “Nothing. Nothing at all, Mr.Broker.”

“Pitch.”

The boy turned to glance at him in confusion. “Huh?”

“My name. I realized I have yet to properly introduce myself to you,” Pitch stopped in front of the boy, holding out his hand. “I’m Pitch Black. But you may call me Pitch.”

The boy didn’t shake his hand. Instead he just gaped at the man in shock. “Wait, wait- What?” the boy shook his head, clearly thrown. “Pitch _Black_? As in the famous Business tycoon, Pitch Black? _That_ Pitch Black?”

Pitch smirked. “The one and only.”

Frost leaned back on his heels, letting out a low whistle. “Wow,” he said. “I knew you had to be some rich business person, but I didn’t expect _that_.” He eyed Pitch for a moment. “But that does make quite a few things make a lot more sense. Like the body guard.”

The boy nodded to himself, as if he was finally absorbing the information, before continuing on.

Pitch honestly didn’t know whether to be miffed by the boy’s dismissal, or impressed. Most people immediately made him the center of their attentions, positive or negative, as soon as they learned who he was. But this boy merely took in the information, reacted, and then picked right back up where he’d left off; pretending like Pitch didn’t matter.

It was a… different experience for him. Not bad, but he wasn’t sure it was good… It was just… different.

“So,” Pitch cleared his throat. “I’ve introduced myself, what about you?”

“Me?” The boy asked, glancing back at him. He shrugged. “I’m no one, really.”

Pitch frowned at the response. “I meant your _name_.”

Frost smirked. “I know what you meant. And I’m telling you it doesn’t matter.”

“Then it shouldn’t matter if you tell me,” Pitch replied, not skipping a beat.

The boy let out an unexpected bark of laughter. “You really _don’t_ give up, do you?” he shook his head. “Fine, you want to know so badly? It’s Jack.”

“Jack,” Pitch replied, nodding in thought, before asking, “So, why did those men refer to you as Frost?”

The boy, _Jack_ , rolled his eyes. “Oh, that? That’s just something people started calling me. You know, Jack Frost? I just sorta took it as a pseudo last name after a while.”

“Jack Frost?” Pitch asked, smirking in slight disbelief. “As in the spirit of winter?”

“Yup,” Jack nodded. “I’ve always had a thing for winter.

Pitch realized, rather belatedly, that he hadn’t even been paying much attention to their surroundings. All the buildings looked the same; drab, dull, typically brick, and always run down. But now they were turning off onto a narrow nearby street.

Pitch glanced around, frowning before turning his attention back to the boy. “So why don’t you just go by your actual last name?”

Jack paused before shrugging it off. “Don’t have one.”

Pitch turned back to him in alarm. “What?”

“Don’t have any parents,” Jack said. “So, I don’t have a last name.”

Pitch pursed his lips. He supposed he wasn’t _surprised_ by the news per-say, but, still…

They made another turn down a deserted street, where a tall brick factory, probably abandoned, stood, surrounded by a rusty chain-link fence.

Pitch eyed it for a moment before looking to Jack again.

Finally, he sighed. “We’re not going anywhere, are we?”

“Sure we are,” The boy replied, grinning cheekily.

“I mean, we’re not going anywhere _specific_.”

Jack hummed in though. “Define specific.”

Pitch breathed out harshly through his nose. This wasn’t getting him anywhere.

He came to a stop abruptly in front of the kid, cutting him off, before gritting out, “Where do you live?”

Jack stopped, eyeing him cagily once more.

What was with this boy? Pitch wanted to groan in frustration. He acted like a caged cat.

After a moment though, the kid shot him an impish smirk, then suddenly darted to the side, climbing up the chain-link fence and vaulting himself to the top.

Pitch gaped in shock as the snowy haired boy leered down at him from his crouched position atop the fence, his bare feet curling around the metal bar.

“Anywhere,” the boy answered, sly grin still plastered across his face, and his eyes as cold as the bitter winter surrounding them. “And everywhere.”

Pitch shook himself of his astonishment, grimacing. “In other words, nowhere,” he countered dryly. 

Jack shrugged. “Call it what you want.”

And with that the by stood up, and began walking, balancing perfectly on the thin rod, as if he were a tightrope walker.

“What are you _doing_?” Pitch barked in alarm, walking to catch up to the lithe teen.

Jack glanced down at him in confusion. “Uh… walking?”

“Get down from there,” Pitch demanded. Just looking up at the boy made his head spin.

The boy snorted. “Oh, sure thing, _Mom_.” He rolled his eyes. “Why should I?”

“Because,” Pitch gestured to the concrete ground, “I don’t particularly feel like watching someone crack their open, and bleed to death right in front of me today.”

Jack let out a bark of laughter. “Aww, am I making you nervous?”

“Frankly, yes,” Pitch snapped.

The boy just chuckled.

Pitch pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out along suffering sigh.

Finally, after a moment’s pause, he said, “While I believe I already know your answer, I still must ask: Do you need a place to stay for the night?”

The snowy haired teen shot him a glare, all mirth and snark now gone. “I’m not some charity case, and I don’t need your help. I’ll be fine.”

“It’s below freezing out here,” Pitch shrewdly pointed out. “And it’s only going to get worse as the night wears on.”

“So?” Jack asked, raising a brow. “I told you, I _like_ the cold.” 

Pitch leveled the boy with a flat look. “You realize you are in no way _dressed_ for the cold, correct?”

Jack blinked, before looking down at himself. “What do you mean?”

Pitch shot him an incredulous look. “You’re only wearing a sweater. And you’re barefoot.”

“So?” The boy challenged once again.

Pitch resisted the urge to drag the teenager back to the ground and shake him.

“You’re going to get frostbite.”

“No, I’m not.”

“ _You’re not even wearing any shoes_ ,” Pitch said, gesturing animatedly. 

Jack huffed. “You know in some countries, like Japan, it’s actually frowned upon to wear shoes.”

Pitch let out a long suffering sigh. “They frown upon wearing shoes _inside_ , not out. And besides, the last time I was aware, this was America.”

Jack just scoffed, before leaping off the top of the fence, landing in a crouch on the opposite side.

“Whatever,” he shrugged. “Fact is I’m good as I am. So…” The boy trailed off, unsure how to proceed, before deciding on, “Nice to meet you, and have a nice life, I guess.”

Pitch watched in a numbed sort of awe as the boy walked away, towards the back of the desolated factory.

Suddenly, reality seemed to set back in, and Pitch realized that if he didn’t act fast, that this may be the last he saw of the boy.

Why did that bother him so much…?

But it seemed his own mouth betrayed him, not allowing him to ponder the question further.

“Wait!” He called.

Jack froze in his tracks, turning back to him. “What _now_?” he asked, clearly exasperated.

“I’d like to be able to talk with you again, tomorrow.” Jack’s eyebrows shot up at that, but Pitch continued on, voice even. “I’ve found our conversation to be very… interesting.”

“Yeah…,” Jack said slowly, clearly unsure and uncomfortable. “I don’t think so. Thanks, but no thanks."

But before the teen could turn to leave, Pitch tried one more tactic.

“I’ll buy you lunch.”

Jack stopped once again before turning to face him fully.

“What?” He asked, sounding genuinely curious.

Pitch straightened his shoulders and clasped his hands behind his back in an attempt to look more dignified, but it was futile. Here he was practically _bribing_ a _child_ to talk to him.

_Oh well_ , Pitch thought sullenly, _too late to turn back now_.

“I have a meeting early tomorrow morning,” Pitch said, “but I was hoping I could meet you for lunch. Maybe at one of the local diners, my treat.”

A crease formed between Jack’s brows as the boy eyed him. “I told you, I’m not going to take your charity.”

“It’s not charity,” Pitch responded quickly. “It’s a peace offering.”

Pitch felt himself holding his breath as Jack seemed to genuinely consider the offer.

“Okay,” the boy said slowly. “I suppose I can’t really complain about free food. Besides,” he shrugged, “I could always just ignore you.”

Pitch… honestly had no idea how to respond to that.

“Meet me at Mary Sue’s diner on South of Maine,” Jack continued. “What time?”

Pitch swallowed hard. “Around one o’clock.”

“Alright then,” Jack gave a small nod as a sly smirk danced across his features. “See you then… _Pitch_.”

And with that, the boy really _was_ gone, disappeared behind the abandoned factory.

Pitch just stood there, frozen for a long moment, but he was able to gather his wits about him enough to call Boris to have the driver come pick him up.

But even as he stood waiting in the light dusting of snow waiting for his ride, Pitch couldn’t stop asking himself one question:

What had he just gotten himself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone who left Kudos and comments, or just read, this story so far! You guys are so amazing, I wish I could just hug all of you! 
> 
> This chapter is what inspired this story, and is actually the first chapter I wrote, so I hope it's okay. I had to go a bit out of comfort zone with it, but I hope I handled it tastefully. I also hope I kept everyone in character enough. That's probably my biggest concern at the moment. But I did my best! Chapter Four is currently being worked on, but some parts of it are being a pain. But I'll hopefully have it completely done with by the time I post chapter three next week. Hope to see y'all then!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As far as dinner, or in this case lunch, conversations have gone, Pitch can safely bet that this takes the number one spot as the strangest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the next installment in this little story!

_A hooded figure desperately scrambled up the chain-link fence, hands slick and scraped, trying to find purchase on the ice-slicked metal. He didn’t get far._

_Two burly men, faces shrouded in shadows came upon him, gripping the back of his clothes, tearing him from the metal fence. The boy’s back slammed against the unforgiving pavement, a grunt of pain escaping him._

_“Thought you could get away from us,” the smaller of the two snarled, as the other pulled his foot back, kicking the boy harshly in the stomach. “We told you: this ain’t that big a town. And rats aren’t that hard to find.”_

_“Obviously, you’ve never had a mouse infestation,” the boy groaned, rolling over on the concrete._

_The man snarled and grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him up, his hood falling back to reveal shock white hair. Jack glared at the man, mouth set in a grimace._

_“You think you’re so smart don’t you,” the smaller man sneered, backhanding the boy, letting him drop back to the ground._

_“Smarter than you, at least,” the boy wheezed as he held his cheek._

_“You know, Frost, I’m getting real sick of that tongue of yours,” the man growled, reaching into his pocket. “How bout’ I…_ remove _… the problem.”_

_The man’s switch-blade flew open, its edges gleaming in the moonlight._

_The burlier man chuckled darkly, “It may lose us a bit of money from Rod, but if you ask me, it’s worth it.”_

_The boy’s eyes widened, as his chest heaved. He seemed frozen with terror, panic flooding through him, as the two men closed in on him, sinister intent shining in near coal black eyes._

_Shadows danced on the brick walls as a scream echoed throughout the alley way._

Pitch woke with a start, panting as if he’d just run a mile, a scream lodged in his throat.

Wide eyes glanced around frantically, searching for a threat.

It took a moment for reality to sink in.

“Just a dream…” Pitch murmured to himself. “Just a dream.”

He leaned back against the headboard, with a sigh, messaging his temples.

But even as he slowly began to relax, the nightmare seemed to stir a half shadowed memory from the day before, pulling it from the recesses of his mind.

_“It ain’t that big a city, Frost. Don’t think we won’t find you.”_

Pitch bolted upright as the man’s words suddenly came back to him in a rush.

_That’s right_ , he thought, suddenly panicked. _They… They had threatened to find him again_.

Terror filled him at the thought. Those men, with their knives, harsh words, disgusting intent, and poisonous attacks… They had promised to find the boy again. Had promised to find _Jack_ , again.

What would they do, Pitch found himself wondering. What would they do, if they found the boy?

He highly doubted they were now going to just be satisfied with turning the boy over to some… some pimp. They’d want revenge. And after he had humiliated them...

Pitch’s eyes widened with horror. What if they had already found him? What if something like his nightmare was taking place right now? What if-

Pitch had already picked up the phone before he even truly registered what he was doing.

He had to call the police. There wasn’t any other option. If those men had already found Jack-

Shadows flashed through his mind, as screams echoed across deserted alleyways, as nails raked against flesh, as metal flashed in the streetlights-

Pitch stopped, his finger pausing on the last digit.

He was getting ahead of himself, he realized, a numbing coldness settling over him. It could be that _nothing_ was happening right now. Despite what the man had said, Seattle _was_ a large city. And it’s as Frost had pointed out: It wasn’t easy to find one random kid, in a city full of random kids. It couldn’t be _that_ easy to find him…

_Maybe_ , his mind whispered traitorously, _but the boy doesn’t exactly blend in, now does he_.

But Jack hadn’t seemed at all concerned about the men’s threat, back then…

_Of course not,_ the whispers countered. _He doesn’t trust you. If he was worried about something like that, I’m probably the last person he’d confide in._

But they couldn’t have found him tonight. Not so soon. They had probably run off to lick their wounds.

_They’ve obviously been able to find him before. Many times, it seems. Why would this be any different?_

Pitch slammed the phone back down its cradle. This was ridiculous. He was arguing with himself.

He sat back down on the bed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He needed to think straight. He had no way of knowing what was going on with the boy, and he couldn’t send the police on some wild goose chase.

Not to mention the fact that Jack was a thief… And the law couldn’t just overlook that little detail, no matter what the circumstances were.

He’d wait. If Jack showed up tomorrow for lunch, then he’d _know_ he was fine. He could talk to him about the situation. Try to arrange something.

And if Jack didn’t show up… Well then, if it came down to it, Pitch would rather see the boy in a cell, than in the hands of those men.

Pitch sighed as he lay back down.

There was nothing he could do now, besides wait for one o’clock. He might as well try and get some sleep. He’d certainly be needing it tomorrow.

But even as he closed his eyes to rest he still saw shadows flash across his mind’s eye, still heard screams echoing through deserted alleys.

He had a feeling this was going to be a long, _long_ night.

 

~*~                ~*~                   ~*~  

Pitch tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a large yawn as the clean cut man up front listed off several statistical analyses regarding the stock market exchange. He was honestly exhausted. After waking up the previous night, he had barely slept a wink. Too overcome and preoccupied with worry to rest peacefully. His mind kept turning back to the gruesome possibilities, and everything that could-

“Mr.Black?” The man up front cut off his train of thought abruptly.

Pitch turned, looking up to find the committee members of Lokia gazing back at him, obviously concerned.

“Are you alright?” The man asked.

“Oh, yes,” Pitch said, waving off their concern. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you. I just had some trouble sleeping last night. It seemed as if someone decided to throw some wild celebrity party on the floor directly below my penthouse. I didn’t sleep a wink with all of that noise,” he lied easily.

 The man chuckled, “First pickpockets, now wild parties? It seems like this town has got it out for you, Mr.Black.”

Pitch snorted, “It’s not the city that’s got it out for me, Mr.Tenaka. I believe it’s someone up there.” He gave a long suffering sigh, as his eyes turned skyward, grumbling under his breath, “Probably my _mother-in-law_.”

The board members laughed among themselves, nodding in agreement.

“Well, then,” George Lokia, the company chair, said, “we won’t keep you much longer. It seems we’re all in agreement here. Let us just take a vote so we may all go to lunch, yes?”

“Umm, actually,” a young man spoke up cautiously, silencing the men’s mutters of agreement, “I don’t think we’ve discussed… everything, quite yet, sirs.”

The board glared back at the younger man, clearly agitated, but Pitch just gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s fine. What is it you’re concerned about?”

“We-well, it’s just- I just,” the man stuttered out, before taking a deep breath. “Sir, I know you’re wishing to buy the McCallian Energy section, but what about the side department? The wind turbine project and its workers?”

George gave a bark of laughter. “Monty, you worry too much. The turbine division isn’t much concern.”

“But-” Monty started.

“To answer your question,” Pitch said, speaking over both men, quieting them immediately, “The turbine industry isn’t currently making any profit. If anything, it’s hurting your energy departments. It’s a waste of time, and quite honestly, resources. It will be scrapped, and more than likely auctioned off in pieces to some ridiculous tree-huggers, willing to waste their own money buying it.”

“But-but, sir,” Monty squawked, “What about all of the people who have jobs there? The ones working in the plant? What will happen to them?”

Pitch shrugged, then leaning forward and steepling his fingers together as he gazed down at the smaller man. “Obviously, they will be let go. If there are no turbines, and no turbine plants, then there will be no workers. _That_ is simple logic.”

The scrawny man continued to splutter, “I-but- I don’t- That means all those people will lose their jobs! They-”

“That,” Pitch cut him off coldly, “is _business_. Sacrifices have to be made at times. I’m sorry this upsets you so, but this is not a place to play nice and worry about saving lives. If that’s what you wanted, I suggest you take up a humanitarian occupation. Perhaps try being a politician,” he drawled lazily. “But, otherwise, that matter is none of my concern.”

No one spoke for a long moment as a deafening silence seemed to ring throughout the room. The young man’s shoulders slumped in defeat as he bowed his head.

Finally, Pitch broke the silence once more, “If there’s nothing else, then shall we move on to a vote?”

The committee murmured in agreement, turning back to the papers in front of them.

 

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

One o’five. It was five minutes after one, and Jack still hadn’t shown up.

Pitch tried to ignore his growing unease as mere minutes ticked by. It had only been five minutes. It was no reason to panic.

He glanced back at the small diner behind him. It was a quaint, homey looking place, with the words _Mary Sue’s_ proclaimed in bold blue letters. This was definitely the right place.

                _But Jack’s still not here…_ Pitch worried his lip, glancing around.

                Had something happened? Had the two men actually found him between last night and now? Anything could have happened. They could have-

                _Screams echoed through desolated alleyways, nails bit at skin, a child struggling as hands drug him back into the shadows, light glinting off metal as_ -

                “Yo!” A voice chirped from behind him.

                Pitch spun around, and saw Jack walking towards him, his hood up, hiding his tell-tale white hair, and his feat as bare as ever.

He visibly sagged with relief.

_Thank the Lord_ , Pitch thought as he slowly let himself relaxed.

Jack was fine. He was fine and wasn’t in the hands of some criminals willing, and aching to _hurt, rip, tear, take_ -

“Hello? Pitch? Anyone home in there?”

Pitch snapped back to reality, to see Jack waving his hand in front of his face, an amused smirk donning his features. He frowned, pushing the boy’s hand away, and stepping back.

“Yes, I’m fine,” He replied coolly. “And I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t do that, thank you very much.”

The boy just shrugged. “Whatever,” he said, walking toward the diner, before tossing over his shoulder casually, “You coming or what? I’m starving.”

Pitch really hoped he was just using that as an expression…

He hesitated for only a moment before following Jack through the door.

The small bell on the door chimed as they walked in, causing the young, brown haired girl working the counter to glance up at them. Her mouth opened in surprise, as she stared at them.

“Jack?” she asked in incredulity.

“Hey, Pippa!” Jack called cheerfully, making a beeline for the bar.

“Jack, what are you doing here?” Pippa demanded, in a furtive whisper. “You know I can’t give you anything. Sue threw a fit after the last time!”

Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Aww, come on, Pip! She’s just an uptight old bat. Besides, that’s not even why I’m here.”

Pippa regarded him warily. “Then why are you here?”

“Can’t I just come to enjoy the company of a friend?” Jack asked, in mock hurt, a smile cracking the façade.

Pippa’s cheeks flushed as she spluttered for a moment.

Jack continued before the poor girl could get a word in. “Actually, believe it or not, I’m here as a paying customer,” he said, grinning.

“Actually,” Pitch spoke up, drawing the girl’s attention to him for the first time, “ _I’m_ here as a paying customer. You’re just here with me.”

“Whatever,” Jack shrugged. “Either way. So Pip,” he turned his attention back to the blushing girl, “you think you can hook me up with two chocolate milkshakes?”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” Pitch said drily, eying the boy.

Jack gave him an incredulous glance over his shoulder. “Who said either of them was for you?” He asked.

Pitch raised a brow. Jack just snorted and gave a jaunty wave to the girl before turning on heel, and heading towards a booth towards the front of the diner.

Pitch just shook his head in exasperation, turning to Pippa. “Just one chocolate milkshake,” he told her, not bothering to catch her response before going to join the boy.

He noticed that the spot Jack had chosen was close to the door. He couldn’t decide whether it was probably because the boy wanted to enjoy the cool breeze if anyone opened the door, or if it was so he could make a quick escape if he felt it necessary.

Probably both.

Jack was already grabbing a small toothpick dispenser set aside on the table against the wall, clearly distracted.

“So,” Pitch began as he slid into one of the vinyl seats, “you two seemed to know each other well…” he said, thinking back to the girl’s flustered blush.

“Yeah, we’ve run into each other a few times, here and at the neighborhood library,” Jack replied absently, as he began to construct some sort of formation out of the toothpicks. “I guess we’re kind of friends, or something.”

Pitch watched Jack’s reaction, or lack thereof, and shook his head.

_Oblivious_ , he mused to himself.

Jack carefully placed the toothpicks atop one another, but didn’t get far before the makeshift fort came tumbling down. The boy sat back with a disgruntled huff, crossing his arms as he glowered down at his ruined creation.

Pitch just watched on in amusement, trying not to snort in laughter.

Finally, after a moment, Jack sat back up and turned his attention back to Pitch, gaze wary once more.

He sighed. “Might as well stop putting it off,” Jack grumbled. “Alright, so why did you _really_ want me to come here today?”

Pitch paused for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. “I’m just… _curious_ , I suppose,” He said finally. “I wanted to ask you a few questions… If that’s alright with you?”

                “Sure,” Jack shrugged, glancing away, refusing to meet his eyes, “not promising I’ll answer all of them, but I guess I’ll listen.”

Pitch nodded. “That’s all I ask.”

An awkward silence fell, as both parties seemed unsure how exactly to proceed.

 “So?” Jack asked, finally, breaking the pregnant pause. “What are you so curious about that you’d be willing to bribe me to get me here?”

Pitch leveled him with a flat look. “I already told you,” he replied, exasperated, “it’s a peace offering, not a bribe.”

“Same thing.”

Pitch just sighed. He honestly didn’t know how he was going to make it through this meal. “I suppose I’m just curious about you in general. You’re whole persona is a bit of an… _enigma_.”

“Really?” Jack asked, brightening considerably. “Cool! I mean, I’m not actively aiming for that or anything,” he said, leaning back in the synthetic seat, “but it’s kinda neat to be considered all dark and mysterious. Especially by someone like you.”

Pitch just gave him a blank stare. “That’s… not what I meant,” he told the boy, shaking his head.

                “Whatever,” Jack just shrugged. “So what _do_ you mean?”

Pitch thought for a moment. He wasn’t really sure how to say it, without making it sound quite so… callous.

He settled on merely saying, “Well, I was partially referring to the conditions you surround yourself in.”

Jack glanced at him in bemusement. “Conditions I- what? What does _that_ mean?”

“You said that you were orphaned-”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Jack began, cutting him off as he gestured emphatically, slicing through the air with his arms, “use that word. Seriously, just don’t. It makes me sound like some sob story from a sitcom.”

Pitch just forged on. “ _And_ that you’re currently homeless,” he sat back, regarding the boy curiously. “Why is that? Shouldn’t you at least be in some sort of foster home or the like?” He pretended he didn’t see Jack tense up at that question. “I hardly believe that you’re legally old enough to be out on your own.”

“How would you know?” Jack snapped defensively. 

“Are you going to try and convince me that you’re over eighteen?” Pitch asked, raising a brow.

“I could be!” Jack said, crossing his arms.

Pitch just pinned him with a deadpan glare.

Jack squirmed for a moment before grumbling, “Well, I _could_ be…”

“Alright,” a chipper voice suddenly cut in. Pitch and Jack both turned to see Pippa approaching them, holding a tray with two chocolate milkshakes. “Here are your drinks,” she said sweetly as she set one of the milkshakes down in front of Pitch, and gave the other to Jack.

Pitch’s brow furrowed. “Miss, I believe I said, only one chocolate milkshake. I told you I’m-”

“It’s a soy milkshake, sir,” Pippa cut him off sweetly.

He blinked in surprise. Well, the girl got points for actually paying some attention. But he still just shook his head. “I still didn’t order it. You-”

“Oh just take the milkshake,” Jack cried, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “It’s not that big of a deal. Besides, I want to order already.”

Pitch gaped at him, unsure how to respond.

Jack didn’t even pay him the slightest bit of heed, and turned back to Pippa saying, “I’ll take a grilled cheese.”

Pippa just nodded, still smiling brightly, as she jotted the order down on the notepad before turning to Pitch. The man sat back, sulking. He had been bested by a couple of teenagers. What was he coming to?

But he just sighed, then turned to their waitress. “I suppose I’ll have a French Dip, if you have one.”

Pippa nodded. “Okay then. Let me just get these orders in, and your food should be out in a moment.”

Pitch went back to sulking as she walked away, absently twirling the milkshake straw between his fingers. Jack on the other hand, wasted no time in sucking nearly half of the beverage down in one go.

“You’re going to get a brain freeze if you keep that up,” Pitch pointed out absently.

Jack shrugged. “It’ll be worth it.”

 Pitch shook his head his head, before thinking back to their earlier conversation. After a moment of deliberation, he asked, “How old are you, truly?”

Jack finally paused in his mission to devour his milkshake in less than a minute, and glanced up at him.

He sat back with a long suffering sigh. “Sixteen, almost seventeen, I’d guess.”

 “Hmm,” Pitch hummed to himself in thought. “Nearly seventeen? Well you are a bit older than I originally thought, I’ll give you that.”

 Jack immediately perked up at that. “See-!”

“- _But_ ,” Pitch cut in, picking the conversation back up right where it had left off, “that still means that you aren’t nearly old enough to be out on your own. By _any_ standards. Legal or otherwise.” Jack slumped down in his seat with an annoyed groan, but Pitch just forged on. “... So, why are you?”

Jack shrugged. “I was at a home for a while, but I didn’t like it there. So I left. And besides this is a big city, you think the cops are going to be running around, worrying about one homeless kid? News flash buddy:” Jack splayed his fingers, as he gestured emphatically, sarcastic enthusiasm dripping from his entire persona, “We’re all over the place!”

Pitch just shook his head, frowning.

 This boy…

“That’s still a rather vague answer..."

 Jack sat back, crossing his arms again. “Well, that’s all the answer you’re getting.”

 “Fine then, I won’t press the issue,” Pitch sighed, pausing for a moment before leaping to the next topic that had been plaguing him with curiosity. “But I suppose another thing that’s bothering me is this: If you’re homeless, then why are you bothering to dye your hair?”

“Huh?” Jack looked genuinely confused. “What do you mean dy- Oh!” He exclaimed in realization. “Oh, no, I don’t dye it.”

 “It’s naturally that color?”

“Yeah,” Jack replied flippantly, “I was born with it,” he paused, seeming unsure for a moment. “…Or at least, I guess I was. The doctors think I may be part albino or something, I dunno.”

Pitch’s brow crinkled at that. “What do you mean ‘you guess’?” He had noticed the boy had said something of the like earlier, but Pitch had just assumed it was because he didn’t know his parents. But this… this was something different.

 Jack suddenly wouldn’t meet his eyes, and he began fiddling with one of the napkins surrounding the silverware. “I- it’s nothing,” he said finally.

 Pitch grimaced. “You certainly aren’t making this easy…”

"Sorry, I’m not sorry,” Jack shot back, a forced smirk stretching unnaturally thin across his features.

“Of course,” Pitch deadpanned. He sighed, he had a feeling he had gotten all that Jack was willing to give him on that subject, so he figured he might as well turn to the next. “So, what about your name?”

“What about it?” Jack asked, shrugging.

 “You said that you didn’t know your last name, since you’re currently orphan-”

 “Ah-ah-ah!” Jack cut him off, waving his hands wildly. “Don’t say it!”

 Pitch stopped and rolled his eyes. “…Since you don’t have any parents to speak of.”

The boy sat back, nodding. “Yup.”

 “But did you ever know your parents?”

Jack seemed to freeze like a deer in the headlights, clearly taken off guard. A pregnant pause stretched between them once more, as Pitch patiently waited for the boy’s reply. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was expecting to hear, but from the way Jack shifted, obviously uncomfortable, unsure what to say, he could imagine it wasn’t anything good.

The silence was broken as Jack whispered, “…I-I don’t… know.”

Pitch blinked owlishly. “Pardon?”

Jack swallowed thickly. “I… I don’t know if I ever knew them or not.”

Pitch regarded him, genuinely perplexed. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Jack took a deep breath, before letting out a shaky laugh. “Man, you’re really not making this easy are you?”

Pitch didn’t answer. He had the feeling he wasn’t supposed to. Jack seemed to deliberate between proceeding or not. More than once, he saw the boy glance at the door longingly, as if wishing to just run away from the entire situation.

 Pitch was honestly a bit touched that he didn’t.

 After a long pause though, Jack blew out a loud breath, running his fingers through his hair before asking, “Fine, you want to know so bad?” He didn’t wait for Pitch to answer, he merely forged on before he could lose his nerve. “I have amnesia.”

                “Amnesia?” Pitch sat up a bit straighter at that. Amnesia? He hadn’t ever met anyone with such a condition before…

                “Yeah,” Jack trailed off, the corners of his mouth twitching. “…I don’t remember the first nine years of my life. I woke up in a hospital when I was nine years old, the week after New Year’s, and didn’t remember anything.”

                “Anything…?”

                “Well… I mean, I remembered basic shit, like what shoes were, how to walk, what a tree was, and all of that, but,” Jack glanced out the window, his mind clearly far from the small diner, “… nothing personal. No memories.”

                Pitch frowned. He may not know much about memory disorders, but he knew enough to understand how rare this was, especially at such a young age. “Any idea why?”

                Jack worried his bottom lip for a moment before shrugging. “... Some couple found me half frozen to death in a snow bank off the side of the road, just outside the city limits, on New Year’s Eve. They were apparently the first ones to spot me,” he gave a small, self-depreciating laugh. “I guess I kinda blended in with the hair and everything.”

                Silence once again reigned throughout the small diner.  

                “The doctors couldn’t tell how long exactly I’d been there,” Jack continued eventually, voice softer, “but they said it had to have been at least twelve hours, probably more. By all accounts, I should have been dead, frozen to death long ago,” he said, grimacing. “But they think the shock of all that may be the cause of my memory loss.”

                Pitch couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped him as he thought of the irony. “And yet you enjoy winter…”

                Jack smirked, genuinely this time, suddenly seeming much more comfortable than he had the entire afternoon. “Hey, winter loves me,” he proclaimed proudly. “Any other kid would have been dead by then, and _I_ didn’t even get any digits chopped off.” He leaned back  in the seat, bringing his legs up to show off his hands and feet to Pitch, wiggling his fingers and toes.

                “Eloquently put,” Pitch said wryly.

                Jack just shrugged as he set his feet back on the ground, suddenly shifting back into his more somber mood. “Anyway, I was in a coma for a while, only about a week or so, but when I woke up, I didn’t remember a thing. Not how I got there, not my name, nothing.”

                Pitch took a moment to digest that information, before a small question arose. “So, who named you Jack?” He asked.

                The boy had a name, so it had to have come from _somewhere_.

                “Oh,” Jack said, clearly surprised by the question, but not without an answer, “apparently the name Jack was on a wristlet I had been wearing when they found me. It was the only thing I had indicating any identity, so…” he wet his lips, “I never got it back.”

                Pitch frowned. “And they couldn’t find anything else?”

                “No,” Jack replied, shaking his head. “They searched for my family for over a year, tracked whatever they could, and they never once got a lead.”

                “Did you ever want to see if you could find them? On your own? See if perhaps looking for your family could lead to a few revelations about your past?” Pitch implored.

                He knew if he had been in Jack’s position he would have done everything within his power to find his family and his past.

                “Nah. Not really,” Jack said, leaning back in the seat.

                “Why?” Pitch tried to not make it sound like a demand, but the thought of Jack acting so flippant over his missing family left him nonplussed.

                 “Like I said,” Jack retorted, his tone turning bitter, acerbic, “they searched for over a year to find my family. Broadcasted it across several states and everything… And no one ever stepped up. If I do have someone out there, then honestly, they’re not too keen on getting me back. So I don’t see why I should bother trying to find them.”

                And suddenly the pieces fell together in Pitch’s mind.

 “I’m sorry,” He said quietly. And he wasn’t sorry for the boy’s circumstance, for the lost loved ones he may have forgotten. He was sorry that the boy hadn’t had anyone for so long.

                “It’s whatever,” Jack shrugged, sounding tired. “Can’t miss what you don’t remember having. But what about you?”

                “Me?” Pitch asked, thrown for a loop at the sudden turn in conversation.

                “Yeah!” Jack cried, suddenly brightening at the thought of digging into the man’s own personal life. “You and your… daughter? I mean, I never knew you even supposedly _had_ a daughter. That seems like the sort of thing the news would jump all over. You know, play the whole ‘sex scandal’, or ‘long lost daughter’ sorta thing. I’m surprised I never heard about her before.”

                “It wasn’t a sex scandal,” Pitch intoned, hands coming up to stave off the oncoming migraine. “I _was_ married.”

                Jack gave him a conspiratal grin. “When you say married, do you mean like one of those Arabic weddings, like ‘What a Girl Wants’ style, that aren’t exactly _legal_ , or-”

                Pitch let out an exasperated sigh. “We were married in a Church in England, genius.”

                “Huh,” Jack cocked his head to the side, ever so slightly. “So, why haven’t I-”

                Pitch interrupted him, already knowing the question. “My wife died in childbirth... And,” Pitch swallowed thickly, “my daughter didn’t live long. She died nearly a decade ago, before my company had truly taken off.”

                Jack remained silent for a moment, clearly contemplating something. But when he did speak, it was hardly anything Pitch expected to hear.

“… So,” he said slowly, “you decided to throw yourself into your work after that to keep your mind off things?”

                Pitch blinked in surprise. That response was… surprising. He wasn’t sure whether or not to be thankful that the boy hadn’t merely said ‘I’m sorry for your loss’. But then again, he’d know better than most how little ‘sorry’ truly helped a person.

But it was still an unexpected response.

Pitch frowned in consternation. This was hardly a conversation he intended to have with the boy.

 “… You know for a person who doesn’t like to answer personal questions, you certainly ask a lot,” he finally retorted.

                Jack just shrugged. “Just… _curious_ , I guess” he replied, smirking as he mimicked Pitch’s earlier statement.

                Before Pitch got the chance to respond, Pippa was back with their food.

                The conversation once again fell into a lull as Jack dug into his grilled cheese, barely even stopping to take a drink as he practically inhaled the meal.

Pitch was just happy to find that his sandwich had been made by someone who at least had half a clue as to what they were doing. But he was honestly even happier that the kid was finally getting something to eat. He looked as thin as a rail.

Luckily, the silence this time wasn’t quite as awkward. Pitch wouldn’t go so far as to call it ‘companionable’ quite yet, but it was an improvement.

As Jack finished off the last of his grilled cheese and went back to his milkshake, Pippa approached them again.

“Jack,” she hissed, as she ran up to their booth. “Sue’s back, you’ve gotta get out of here!”

“Uh-oh,” Jack murmured to himself, his eyes darting around frantically.

Pitch frowned, and placed his hand on Jack’s arm, hoping to keep him from jumping up and running off. He still needed to talk to him about what he intended to do about those men from before.

But Jack visibly flinched when Pitch touched him, and quickly brushed him off.

“I don’t see what the problem is,” Pitch said, turning to Pippa, purposely ignoring Jack’s reaction. “We _are_ here as paying customers.”

Pippa bit her bottom lip. “It’s complicated,” she whispered. “But Miss Sue doesn’t want Jack anywhere near this place. If she finds out he’s here…” she trailed off.

Pitch just sighed and shook his head, standing up. “Fine, I’ll suppose we’ll take our leave then.” He threw a fifty dollar bill down on the table. “Keep the change.”

And with that, he walked out the door, not even bothering to glance back at his half-finished meal.

Jack followed after him only a moment later, clearly eager to be back outside. The boy gave out a half-hearted chuckle as they heard the muffled sound of the bell as the door closed behind them.

“Whew,” he laughed, “that was close.”

Pitch rounded on him, his face marred with irritation “Why did you suggest this place if you knew you weren’t allowed,” he demanded, irate.

Jack just shrugged, clearly unfazed by the man’s intimidating display. “They have good food.”

Pitch grit his teeth, before growling, “Let’s go.”

“Fine, fine,” Jack said, throwing up his hands. “Grumpy much?”

Pitch seethed silently as he marched down the street. Never before, had he had the humiliating experience of practically being _forced_ to leave a restaurant. It wasn’t an experience he ever wanted, and certainly didn’t want to repeat.

Jack had to jog a bit to keep up with him.

“I don’t know what you’re so upset about,” the boy said. “It’s not like it was anything against _you_.”

Pitch didn’t bother to dignify that with a response.

Finally, after a moment, Jack just sighed. “Fine, okay.” He stopped suddenly. Pitch turned to him, wary. “Whatever. Thanks for the meal and all, but I guess I’m just gonna… go now.” Jack shrugged, and made to turn down a side alley

“Wait,” Pitch called, stopping the boy in his tracks.

Jack looked back up at him, questioningly. “What? Are you going to offer me dinner and a movie now? That’s real nice and all, but I don’t think I’m ready to take that step in our relationship just yet.”

Pitch just leveled him with a flat glare. “Where are you staying tonight?”

The boy blinked. “Huh?” Pitch watched as realization seemed to dawn on him.

“Oh, not this again,” he groaned. “Come on, didn’t I already tell you? I don’t do charity! And there’s no way you’re convincing me that _that_ is just a peace offering,” he declared, clearly irritated.

“That’s not what this is about,” Pitch replied quickly. “Those men… from before. They’re looking for you, aren’t they?”

Jack seemed to freeze in place.

He backed up a few paces. “I don’t know,” his voice was practically a whisper. “They might, they might not. It doesn’t matter.”

Pitch’s frown deepened. “I’d hardly say what they plan to _do_ to you if they find you ‘doesn’t matter’.”

“They won’t find me,” Jack snapped. “It’ll take them a good few days to figure out where I went, and by then, I’ll be out of here.”

That gave Pitch a pause. “What do you mean…?” He questioned, hesitant.

Jack just shoved his hands into the pockets of his blue hoodie. “Nothing. Just that I guess I’m going to have to hop on a bus out of here pretty soon.”

“Where do you plan on going,” Pitch asked, regarding the boy warily.

Jack just shrugged. “Don’t know yet. Guess I’ll find out.”

Pitch just gazed at the boy, unsure what to truly make of him.

Finally, he asked, “How would you like to meet with me again? In the park by the coy fish pond. There are a few venders nearby that would be easy to buy from.” He leveled Jack with a stern glare. “You’re not _banned_ from any of _those_ areas, are you?”

The boy regarded him cagily for a moment. “Another ‘lunch date?’ Come on, don’t you have better things to be spending your time on?” Jack asked, though there was a hard note behind his lighthearted tone.

“It would have to be around three o’clock, so I’m not sure if you’d count it as ‘lunch’. And in a town like this?” Pitch raised a brow. “No. I honestly don’t. You’re the best source of entertainment I could find.”

Jack gave a sharp bark of laughter. “One of these day’s I’ll have to introduce you to a movie theater.” He sobered for a moment. “But whatever. As long as I’m getting free food, I don’t see why I should care.”

“Interesting way to look at it,” Pitch droned, drolly. “But I suppose I can take that as a yes?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah.”

“And the men, they won’t be a problem tonight.”

Jack just dismissed his concern with a wave of his hand. “Nah. They won’t find me anytime this week. They’re probably still licking their wounds.”

“As long as you’re sure your safe,” Pitch trailed off, completely unconvinced.

Jack just laughed. “Don’t worry about me, okay? I’ll be fine on my own. Always have been,” he smirked. “Later Pitch.”

And with that, the boy was gone once again, disappeared within the dark recesses of the alley.

Pitch didn’t have the energy to do much more than sigh, before beginning the long trek back to the hotel.

He didn’t feel the need to call the car, though.

And who knew. Maybe the town was more enjoyable when he didn’t have to be bothered with rushing about.

But Pitch highly doubted it.

 

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story about this chapter: I originally had up to 12 pages of it written, and plugged the flash drive holding it into my computer to work on it at home, only to find out that there was an older version of it that was only three pages long already up that I had forgotten to close out of. So, me being lucky me, when I exited out of the older version, it automatically saved on my computer... and my flash drive. So I lost nine pages of work on this... yay. Rewriting all of it certainly wasn't fun. Especially since I had writers block writing it the first time. But I hope this turned out good. This was a good practice for me in developing relationships, and learning how to write conversations. I hope I kept it realistic and in character without it becoming boring! And yes, Jack now has a rather traumatic backstory along with Pitch that follows the books and movie. I hope that doesn't make it too cliché... Oh well. I'm just finishing up the last section of chapter four, so it should be ready by next week. I hope you all enjoyed! And thank you so much to everyone who has commented, left kudos, or even just read this story! You guys are amazing!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes the answers for the future, can be found in the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Pitch stared into the synthetic hearth as flames of the electric fire place licked at the glass walls. It had been a long day, and he certainly had a lot to think about.

Something wasn’t right about this entire situation. Jack Frost had become a problem, a constant yearning question, that left him unsure how to handle any of the circumstances, yet unable to drop the ordeal all together.

Something was just… amiss.

It had to happen often enough. Children being orphaned, or cast out by parents, or living on the streets. It happened. Regrettable, but true. And he had always understood that there was little he could do to change that fact…. So why did it feel so wrong to just leave the child to his fate?

Jack obviously _wanted_ to take care of himself. Pitch was willing to bank on the boy having more than just a few trust issues, and the child had been on his own for so long… He had been alone for so long that Pitch doubted he even knew what to do with himself around most people.

Pitch should just be able to call the authorities, the local social worker, anyone, and could easily rectify the problem without ever having to involve himself.

But it was wrong. Somehow, someway he was tied to this boy; he had been since Jack first stole his pocket watch. He just couldn’t put his finger on _why_.

He slumped down in the chair with a mighty sigh, rubbing at his temples. It had been a very long day. And he was no closer to setting his mind at ease as he had been before.

Pitch finally just leaned back, letting his eyes drift shut. The shadows casted by the flames flickered across his face, alighting some of his features. Synthetic or not, the fire reminded him a bit of home. Of a different fire place, in a different, much less silent, room from what seemed to be so long ago.

 

_The fire crackled in the small stone outcrop as thunder shook the entire house. Lightning lit up the dark widows, throwing the shadows into sharp relief._

_But despite the howling wind, two figures huddled together on the cozy living room couch with nothing lighting the darkness but the fire, laughing._

_Seraphina sat, enraptured with her father’s tale as he told of heroes of old times, and of new._

_“And there the horse stayed,” Pitch finished, his face a solemn façade, “until he learned to eat his vegetables.”_

_His daughter let out a giggle._

_“Daddy, that isn’t how the story ends,” she chastised, pouting even as she tried to fight off a smile. “And you know it!”_

_Pitch drew back, looking affronted. “It most certainly is how the story ends. I should know. I’m the one who tells it. Besides, it has the most relevance to real life.”_

_Sera scrunched up her nose. “I’m still not eating my vegetables.”_

_Pitch shot her a playful glare. “Why you-”_

_He swooped down on her, running his fingers over her sides, tickling her as she fell back, shrieking with laughter._

_“St-St-Cut it out!” The girl cried through her giggles, the smile never leaving her face. She reached out, her own hands hoping to find something to use in retaliation._

_Her hands finally found purchase on his shoulders, and her frail form just barely managed to push her father enough to cause him to roll off the couch and onto the floor (Though admittedly, she was met with little resistance. But neither party was willing to point that out.)._

_She glanced down at him, green eyes (her mother’s eyes, she’d always looked so much like her) wide as she gazed down at him curiously._

_Pitch just gazed back at her, stunned, before bursting out laughing. Seraphina joined in only a moment later; the giddy laughter was absolutely infectious._

_They smiled back at each other as Pitch climbed back onto the couch. Sera curled into his side as thunder boomed outside and lightning lit up the windows with a harsh light._

_She wasn’t scared anymore, that much Pitch was relieved for. When he had found her still up at this hour of night, unable to sleep with the storm raging outside, he wasn’t sure what he could do for her._

_Both father and daughter were completely content to just sit in each other’s presence, letting the firelight dance across their faces._

_But finally, Sera broke the comfortable silence._

_“Daddy?”_

_Pitch hummed in question, “Yes, Princess?”_

_Seraphina was silent for a beat. “Why were those men just standing on the street?” she asked._

_Pitch’s eye’s opened fully as he turned to look down at her. She must have been referring to the homeless men that had been out on the streets near the hospital that day. He gazed down at his daughter, not quite sure how to answer._

_“Well…” he finally said, “It’s because they don’t have a home.”_

_He didn’t have to wait long for that to sink in. “What? You mean they don’t have any place to live?” Sera asked, seeming horrified at the concept._

_Pitch just nodded._

_“That’s horrible!” she gasped. She paused for a moment, before turning to her father pleadingly, “….Daddy, why don’t we help them? We have pleny of room! They could live here! Or-or, we could give them money and they could- they could-”_

_“Sera-Sera-_ Sera _,” Pitch cut in, laughing softly as he took hold of her wildly flailing arms, holding her in place. “It doesn’t work that way, sweetie,” he said gently. “I’m sorry it just doesn’t. We can’t just go about the world trying to save everyone._

_“Well, why not?” his daughter demanded, pouting._

_Pitch paused, thinking over how to best reply. He hadn’t really intended to have this conversation with Sera at such a young age. But, she had always been a remarkably sharp, and curious, girl, so he supposed he should have expected as much._

_He wasn’t even sure if he could properly put it into words._

_“Well…” he finally replied, “you see sweetheart, there are many people in the world, many, many people, who need someone. And sometimes the person they need… well, it just isn’t us.”_

_Seraphina frowned, brows furrowing in consternation as she puzzled out her father’s reply._

_“So how can you tell the difference?” she asked. “How do you know whether you’re the person they need or not?”_

_Now that was something he really_ couldn’t _put into words._

_Pitch sighed. “There’s no certain way I can really tell you.” He paused for a moment, considering. “But… when the time comes, you’ll know.”_

_“How?”_

_Pitch smiled down at her. “You’ll be able to feel it. Right, here,” he said, poking her in the chest, above her heart._

_Seraphina giggled before batting her father’s hand away._

_“Promise?” she probed._

_Pitch nodded, still smiling softly as he moved his pinky finger across his chest, saying, “Cross my heart.”_

 

Pitch’s eyes fluttered open as he rubbed at them with the back of his hand.

He must have dozed off for a moment…

Pitch frowned as he leaned back in the chair, pondering over the memory, a dull ache resounding in his chest. That had been many years ago… He was surprised he had remembered it now when it had escaped him before.

Every moment he had ever shared with his daughter had been precious, but as time wore on, well… his memory was no longer what it used to be.

…He wondered if he could even recall her laugh before this. He had always loved her laugh.

But he had forgotten… He had forgotten what he had told her so long ago in front of the fire place. How could he have forgotten?

His mind flashed back to Jack, white haired, barefoot, snarky and defensive, Jack.

_“Sometimes the person they need… well, it just isn’t us.”_

_“How do you know whether you’re the person they need or not?”_

_“When the time comes, you’ll know.”_

His hand moved subconsciously to grab hold of the silver pocket watch. Seraphina’s bright smile and warm green eyes passed through his mind’s eye. He may not have remembered before, but he did now.

And now… Pitch understood he needed to do.

                                                                                                  ~*~        ~*~       ~*~

 

Pitch took a deep breath before glancing back down at his pocket watch. Nine o’ Two. They’d have to be in by now…

_There’s no reason to be nervous_ , He chastised himself as he let out a shaky breath.

Finally, he picked up the phone and dialed the number from the phone book.

It rang once.

Twice.

Three Times.

Pitch bit his lip, feeling impatience overtake him. What if they weren’t in?

Four

Fiv-

“Seattle Youth Services Bureau, how may I help you?” a distinctively female voice asked.

Pitch blinked, subconsciously straightening his posture, even though the woman on the other end couldn’t see him.

“Ah, yes. Hello. This is Mr. Black. I was calling looking for the Social Worker in charge of the orphanages and foster homes in downtown Seattle.”

“This is she speaking. My name is Lauren Carpwright, what can I do for you?” She replied, her voice saccharine sweet.

“I was calling to inquire about the files of one of the children under your jurisdiction,” He said, trying not to hold his breath.

“Alright, and who are you looking for?”

“A boy named Jack.”

The woman hummed from the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to give me more information than that, sir. Last name?”

“I-,” Pitch shook his head in frustration. “He doesn’t have one. His name is Jack, but he might be under the name Jackson, I’m not sure. He’s about seventeen years old.”

“I’m still going to need a last name, sir,” she said gently.

“Didn’t you hear me?” he snapped. “He doesn’t have one! All I know is that he goes by the name Jack Frost. He’s about seventeen, and-”

“There’s no one in the system that goes by that name,” the woman cut him off coldly.

“Wha-” Pitch broke off with a growl. “There has to be. He has white hair, always walks around barefoot, he’s not currently living with-”

“There is _no one_ in the system that matches that description,” Lauren repeated, her voice tight. “I’m sorry, but I cannot help you.”

“I-”

Pitch didn’t even get another word in before the line went dead.

He stood there as the dial tone rung in his ears, before slamming the phone down into the cradle with a cry of frustration.

The woman was lying; she had to have been. There was no other explanation for why she had suddenly become so defensive and tight lipped at the mere _mention_ of Jack Frost.

_Fine. I’ll figure this out myself,_ he seethed.

He glanced up at the clock. He had to start getting ready for his meeting soon. But three o’clock wasn’t too far off. Hopefully he’d have enough time to get his thoughts together before meeting Jack.

Pitch had a feeling that this conversation wasn’t going to be an easy one…

 

                                                                                                    ~*~        ~*~       ~*~

 

_Damnit_ , Pitch growled to himself as he strode across the snow covered sidewalk. _That meeting was supposed to be_ short _, for God’s sake._

The conference was supposed to just be a matter of ironing out a few details in the contract, but of course, _of course_ it couldn’t be that simple. It seemed that some sort of mistake was found no matter where they looked.

And now he was already fifteen minutes late. Fifteen minutes late, and all the possible worst case scenarios were suddenly playing out in his mind.

What if Jack had already left, having gotten bored waiting for him?

What if someone had spotted the boy while he waited, and recognized him for a previous crime?

What if Jack hadn’t come at all?

What if he hadn’t come because the men from before really _had_ found him-

_Stop it,_ Pitch scolded himself. _Jumping to conclusions isn’t going to help anything._

Pitch held his breath as he came upon the coy fish pond that lay in the middle of the park.

Was anyone there? He couldn’t tell from this far back…

But he didn’t get another two steps before something else drew his attention.

Laughter.

And not just any laughter.

Pitch glanced off to his right, and there, not far from the coy pond, a snowball fight was taking place.

There were children in colorful hats, scarves, and jackets everywhere, running about, shrieking with laughter as they pelted each other with hard packed snow. One little girl was even chasing some of the children down with the head of a snowman. And there, in the middle of all the chaos, was Jack, his white hair blending in with the winter wonderland surrounding him. The boy ducked and dodged, all while pelting kids at random with chunks of snow, laughing all the way.

Pitch stopped, and just looked on in awe as they played.

He hadn’t been aware that Jack- guarded, sarcastic Jack- could act so… carefree. As if he still had the spirit of a child within him.

Another trait to add to the growing list of curiosities about the boy.

Pitch was content to just watch for now, he didn’t want to interrupt their fun. Besides, he wasn’t sure when he’d next get a chance to see Jack laugh like that, as if all his walls were suddenly gone. He had the feeling it was a rare occurrence. So he’d leave them be for now.

Pitch wasn’t sure how long he had stood there, or when he had begun drifting forward, closer and closer to the edge of the field where the children were playing. But eventually, Jack must have spotted him out of the corner of his eye, and the boy quickly veered off path from where he was tossing ammunition to some of the children and jogged over to where Pitch was standing.

“Hey, old man,” Jack greeted cheerfully, his cheeks flushed from the cold and exertion. “About time you got here.”

“Sorry about that,” Pitch said, inclining his head, and glancing over to see the children still playing as if their playmate hadn’t left them. “The meeting ran a bit late. But by all means, don’t let me stop your fun.” He gestured towards the kids.

“Huh?” Jack glanced back behind him, at the field he had just been playing in. “Oh, no. Don’t worry about that. Besides, I’m hungry anyways,” he replied with a cheeky smirk.

Pitch looked back down at him, seeing the grin that overtook Jack’s features and his over bright eyes, and just shook his head. “Alright then, let’s grab something from a vender then.”

Jack nodded, and in no time, they were both seated at a bench near the coy fish pond, where they could still see the children playing, continuing with their chilly war, as they munched contently on their hotdogs.

Or at least, Jack was. More like, he was wolfing it down as if he was afraid it might run away from him.

Pitch was more content with just having a few small bites here and there. He had honestly never been one for street vender food, but he supposed it’d have to do for now.

“So,” Pitch began as Jack finished off the last of his meal, “are you sure you’re little friends won’t miss you?”

Jack just snorted. “Trust me, they won’t even notice I’m gone. I might as well be a ghost to them.”

Pitch paused in taking a bite from his hot dog. “What do you mean by that?”

“You know, just that I’m kinda invisible around here,” Jack said with a shrug, slumping down on the bench as his previous energy finally seemed to leave him.

Pitch turned fully to look at the boy, confusion written across his features. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Jack sighed. “Look, in case you didn’t notice, those kids, and everyone else in this park, barely even looked at me. It’s sorta the unspoken rule about people like me. Ignore the homeless kid unless they’re doing something wrong. How do you think I haven’t gotten picked up by the cops before now?” Jack grimaced. “They know I’m out here, the social workers know I’m out here, but none of em’ want to throw me behind bars for it, or back in a home. So the next best thing for them to do is just pretend like I don’t exist in the first place.”

Pitch frowned, his brows drawing together in consternation. “But that’s not a solution to anything,” he argued.

 “It is to them. What you can’t see can’t cause trouble for you.” Jack just shrugged again. “So to all of them, I’m just invisible.”

Pitch looked away, unsure how to process that. How does one reply to a confession like that?

But Jack didn’t give him much chance to mull it over.

“Which brings me to what _I’m_ curious about,” Jack said suddenly, turning to face Pitch fully, expression searching. “If I’m invisible around here, why did _you_ see me?”

The boy’s voice was hard, but the look in his eyes was desperate, searching for an answer. And Pitch honestly wasn’t sure what he could tell him. He couldn’t answer all the questions Jack’s eyes were asking. Couldn’t tell him why he had been ignored in the first place. Couldn’t tell him why he had been left alone. And because he couldn’t answer those, he couldn’t answer the question the boy was asking of him now.

So he answered honestly, just as he had all those years ago in front of the fireplace during a thunderstorm. “I don’t know,” Pitch said, voice a mere whisper. “I honestly don’t. All I know, is that I honestly don’t know how I, or anyone else for that matter, could have _not_ noticed you.”

Jack drew back, obviously a bit surprised by the earnest reply. He turned away, tucking his hands into his hoodie pocket with a derisive snort.

“Yeah, that’s not a vague answer,” he grumbled.

Pitch just smirked down at him. “Then I guess we’re two for two on that front.”

Jack just shot him a glare, and huffed.

Pitch resisted the urge to laugh before continuing. “So, since you had the first curiosity satisfied, does that mean it’s my turn?”

Jack just gave a dismissive wave of his hand as he brought his knees up to his chest. “Go right ahead.”

Pitch raised a brow, but didn’t question it. “You never really told me before, why did you leave the foster home you were at?”

Jack gave a sharp bark of laughter. “Now _that_ is a long story. But to make a long story short: The guy running the joint was a complete and total bastard. So I left.”

“Is the way you’re living now truly that much better?” Pitch prodded, frowning in disbelief.

Jack averted his gaze. “It’s complicated,” he muttered into his knees. “It was the best solution at the time. Now… it’s pretty much the only solution.”

Pitch paused, taking a deep breath. Well, it was now or never. Otherwise, he was almost positive that he’d lose his nerve. He just hoped he didn’t scare the boy off.

“What about adoption?” he asked conversationally.

Jack glanced back up at him in confusion. “What about it?”

“Have you- Has it ever been an option?” Pitch licked his lips, trying to keep his nerve. “Did anyone ever…”

Jack just stared at him for a long moment before bursting out laughing. “Yo-You’re kidding me, right?” he gasped between breaths.

Pitch didn’t respond, and just continued to watch the boy, expression deliberately blank.

Gradually, Jack’s chortles died down, and his smile slipped away as he realized that Pitch wasn’t responding.

“Okay, wow. You’re… not kidding,” he said slowly, bewildered comprehension finally dawning on him. Jack cast Pitch a funny look before turning his eyes skyward as he sighed. “You did hear me when I told you that I was found when I was _nine_ , right?”

“Yes,” Pitch replied with a terse nod.

Jack eyed him incredulously, raising a brow. “Dude, do you have any idea how much harder it is to find someone to take a kid in if they’re over the age of five? Much less _ten_? By the time the authorities gave up the search and even opened up that option, there was almost no way. Besides, I wasn’t exactly known as the “golden child” back then either. And after you turn fifteen?” Jack scoffed, “You might as well forget it.”

“What if someone did try to gain legal custody of you now?” Pitch inquired, trying to keep his apprehension hidden.

“Didn’t you just hear me?” Jack demanded, shooting Pitch an annoyed glare. “It’s not gonna happen. Especially not now.”

“But if it did,” Pitch pressed.

Jack just gave another long suffering sigh, before answering, “It would be kinda pointless at this point. I mean, I only have about a year and a half left before I’m legal…” He paused, throwing a curious look over at Pitch. “Why are you asking anyways?”

Well, at least he could get this over with quickly.

Pitch drew a deep breath.

“Because I was thinking about trying to put an adoption through.” Jack just continued to stare at him, obviously not catching on. “ … For you.”

That seemed to wake the boy up.

“Wait- _What?”_ Jack cried, bolting upright and staring at Pitch, clearly thrown. 

Pitch barreled on, trying to explain himself before Jack had a chance to run off. “I had been thinking that perhaps I could solve a few of your problems by making myself your legal guardian.”

Jack just gaped at Pitch. He sat there frozen for what seemed like eons. He looked so bewildered that Pitch almost found it comical. But slowly Jack seemed to withdraw from his shock, and his jaw clenched as his eyes hardened.

Jack was up in a flash, storming off in the opposite direction with a noise of disgust.

Pitch sat there, momentarily stunned, before he finally regained his wits and jumped to his feet, hurrying after the boy.

“Wa-Wait!” Pitch called. “ _Where_ are you going?”

Although really, Pitch could honestly say that he should have expected Frost to react like this.  

“Away from here!” Jack shot back, without bothering to look over his shoulder.

Pitch was now having to jog to catch up with him, and was becoming increasingly flustered.

“Wh- What are you- Stop!” He spluttered, reaching out a hand to the boy, only to have it knocked away as he sped up. “ _Slow down_. Would you just- _STOP!_ ” He grabbed Jack by his shoulder, and forcefully spun the child around to face him. “What’s on earth has gotten into you?” Pitch demanded.            

“Into _me_?” The boy shouted, gesturing wildly. “You’ve got to be _kidding me_. You just told me you wanted to _adopt_ me!”

“And?” Pitch challenged, fists clenching. “I’m not quite sure how that warrants this type of response.”

Jack’s features twisted into a snarl. “Just what the hell are you playing at?”

Pitch drew back at the sudden hostility. “Pardon?”

“What do you want, huh?” Jack barked, taking a step forward. “First, saving me from those bastards, which fine. Okay, I get it. Returning a favor because it’s only cuz’ of you I was put in that position to begin with.”

Pitch reeled back, flabbergasted. “Are you-”

But Jack didn’t even let him get a word in before barreling on. “But then the free meals? All that crap about being curious? About your daughter, _all of it?”_ He pushed forward, gesturing sharply between himself and Pitch.  “What are you trying to do, huh? What do you _want_? I. _STOLE_. FROM YOU! And now, you’re asking me to let you _adopt me_? What the hell? _What do you want_?” Jack cried, his voice hoarse and cracking.  

“I don’t _want_ anything from you-”

“Bullshit!” The boy snapped.

“Jack-!”

Jack just continued to advance on him, but this time Pitch held his ground. “You don’t pull all this crap without wanting something!” he said, jabbing his finger at Pitch. “What is it? Do you want me to be your little “go to” boy?”

_“WHAT?”_ Pitch practically screeched, appalled. He wasn’t even entirely sure what that _meant_ , but from what he could glean from the implications of the title, it wasn’t something _anyone_ would want to be used for. “Will you just-”

“Want me to do _your_ dirty work, too? Maybe make a buck off of me?” Jack sneered, still pressing forward.

Pitch tried once more, “Just st-”

“Need a scapegoat or something?” Jack continued, unrelenting. “Or what? You want some cheap publicity? Oh yeah, ‘Owner of Black Enterprises Adopts Homeless Childhood Thief.’ That’ll look _great_ on the front page!”

This was getting too far out of hand. “Would you ju-”

“Or _what_? You want me to be some sort of replacement for your _dead_ daughter, or something?”

_Slap!_

The sound of Pitch’s hand striking Jack’s cheek seemed to resound all around them.

Silence rang out in place of the clamor their argument had caused.

Pitch’s breathing was ragged, as he slowly lowered his hand (he wasn’t even completely sure how it had gotten there to begin with), his eyes never leaving Jack’s face.

Jack seemed frozen in time, his head still turned slightly to the side, and his eyes unblinking, obviously shocked.                

The pink hand-print on his face already fading from sight, so Pitch was glad to see that he could not have hit him too hard. He hadn’t meant to lose his head.

But it seemed to have the desired effect nonetheless.

The boy had finally quieted down, and now turned to look at Pitch, trepidation written across his features.

But at least he wasn’t running away. Hopefully that meant he was now willing to listen to reason.

Finally, Pitch drew himself up to his full height. “You will _never_ be a replacement for my daughter,” he rasped. “Not you, or anyone else!” He paused, taking a shaky breath, before looking back at Jack, his expression softening. “I don’t need you to be her replacement, and I don’t want you to be either.”

Jack just continued to stare up at him, his eyes darting across Pitch’s face, expression unreadable.

Pitch just did his best to ignore it, and just sighed. “Now, will you just _stop_ for one minute, and stop jumping to conclusions?”

Jack glanced to the side, before giving a terse nod.

Pitch pursed his lips but didn’t comment. Instead he continued, “I understand your trepidation in this situation. And I apologize for losing my temper, but there _are_ lines that shouldn’t be crossed. But you have no reason to suspect an ulterior motive from me. I’m merely offering you a home, no strings attached. You could use some stability and protection, and I could use the company. It could easily be mutually beneficial for both of us.”

Great, now this sounded like a business pitch. The kid was _sure_ to buy _that_ …

Pitch felt like smacking himself in the forehead, but restrained himself. No point in getting flustered over spilled milk.

Jack just shot him a glare, obviously unimpressed. “You do realize that I’m not just some _dog_ that you can pick up off the streets or some animal shelter and take home, right? That’s not how it works.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Pitch confirmed. “I just… It wouldn’t sit well with me. To just leave you to things, all on your own. Especially with the luck you seem to have. I have enough difficulty sleeping knowing your out here as is. I’m not sure I’d ever get any rest after I leave the city if I just left you here.”

Pitch regretted the last part as soon as the words were out of his mouth.

Damnit. He hadn’t meant to make himself seem vulnerable in front of the boy. Now he had probably bruised both his pride, and his dignity.

Jack considered him carefully. “And what’s to say I want to stay with you? I’m not really much for staying tied down to one spot.”

Pitch merely shrugged. “If you stay for a month, then wish to leave, I’d let you. You could keep in contact, and I’d be more than willing to send you the support you needed, so long as you kept your activities, _legal_ ,” he stressed, pinning Jack with a look. “Or, if that’s too restricting for you, then I could have you legally emancipated if you so wished, and you could be _legally_ free to do whatever you wished without my consent.”

“Why bring this up _now_?” Jack asked.

Pitch grimaced. “I’m only going to be in town a few more days. Pretty soon, the contract I’m drawing up with the company I’m visiting will be signed. After that, I’m off again. Besides, you said you were going to be leaving soon. It’s either now or never.”

Jack just shook his head. “They’re never going to put it through. My files are complicated enough, and besides, it’s like I said: invisible. They’d never allow it.”

“I believe I could change their minds. I’m rather talented in the art of persuasion,” Pitch insisted. “It is, after all, a part of the profession,” he said, tightening his tie and straightening his back.

Jack snorted with laughter at the man’s display, before stopping to give the offer serious consideration. “All right,” he conceded slowly. “If you’re so sure you can get them on your side, then how bout’ this: If you can get them to agree to put the adoption through before you have to skip town, then sure. I’ll buy into this.”

Pitch felt a huge wave of relief break over him, as his lips pulled back into a smile. “Thank you.”

Jack scoffed. “Not sure what you’ve got me to thank for.”

A secretive smile stole over Pitch’s expression, and his eyes glinted as he turned back to the field of snow where the children were still playing. “Who knows.”

Jack just rolled his eyes, before following his gaze.

Pitch wasn’t sure how long they stood there, just enjoying the scene around them (Pitch was glad to see that it didn’t look as if they’d scared off too many people with their previous argument.). For once Jack was silent beside him.

Not for the first time, Pitch found himself wishing he could somehow see into the boy’s mind. He wasn’t use to being completely unable to guess the thoughts of his companions. Most people were easier to read.

Then again, most people weren’t quite this guarded.

But nonetheless, the silence that reigned between them was much like the one from the diner the day before; it was neither strained, nor companionable. It just was.

As Pitch watched the children as their snowball war gradually fell away and they began taking part in other snow games, he couldn’t help remembering Jack’s laugh from before. Carefree and light as the wind around them.

“You know,” he said suddenly, “despite whether they noticed you or not, you really did seem to be having fun out there.”

Jack shot him an amused smirk. “Well don’t sound so surprised,” he snickered. “I’m always game for a bit of fun.”

Pitch raised a brow. “I honestly didn’t take this to be your sort of scene. Especially considering the… circumstances.”

“You mean the whole, homeless and stalked by criminals thing?” The boy asked bluntly.

Pitch glanced at him from the corner of his eye. “Yes… that. I didn’t think you’d be the type to bother with these sorts of places.”

Jack shrugged. “If you ask me, it’s the best place to be. I mean, yeah. A lot of things suck right now, but there’s also a lot of good things that I can appreciate as well. No point in moping about the bad stuff all the time, when you’ve got something good right in front of you, right?”

Pitch glanced down at him, impressed. “That’s a surprisingly… cheerful viewpoint coming from you.”

Jack just gave a dismissive wave. “Hey, I’m generally a happy person.” He threw Pitch an impish smirk. “I just don’t like you.”

“Really? I could have never guessed,” Pitch drawled, pinning the boy with a dry look.

Jack just laughed, before turning away, beginning to walk in the opposite direction. “Tell you what, if you can get this adoption put through, meet me here again at six tomorrow evening. If it’ll fit into your schedule that is. If you don’t, then don’t bother showing up.”

Pitch nodded, though Jack couldn’t see it at this point. “Sounds fair,” he said, before smirking back at the boy. “And I look forward to getting the chance to change your opinion of me.”

Jack just snorted, tossing Pitch one last look over his shoulder. “Yeah. We’ll see.”

Pitch just smiled as he watched Jack disappear, before turning in the opposite direction and taking out his pocket watch.

Smiling to himself as he ran his fingers over the intricate silver design, he murmured, “We’ll see.”

                                                                                                   ~*~        ~*~       ~*~

_“Daddy?”_

_“Hmm?”_

_“Why is it that only certain people need our help?”_

_“Because sweetheart… The people who need_ us _, well… we’re usually the ones that need_ them _too.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope this turned out okay. Writers block gave me hell for a good portion of it. Once again, characterization is a concern, so I hope I did okay. And don't worry things will be picking up pace soon. I'm currently working on chapter five so hopefully I can have it posted in the next week.  
> As always, I hope you enjoyed and concrit is appreciated! Thank you to all of you beautiful people who have left comments, kudos, or just read this story! You're wonderful!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack's honestly not sure what to think of this Pitch guy... But either way it didn't matter. There was no way he could get the adoption put through. 
> 
> But one should never underestimate Pitch Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly have no idea how adoptions actually work in real life. All I know comes from books, movies, and shows. If anything is wrong, then I'm sorry.  
> In this chapter I attempted to write in Jack's point of view, so we'll see how that turned out.

Adoption?

Jack scoffed.

The guy was crazy. There was no way in _hell_ that would ever happen. Even if the fiery pit _did_ freeze over.

_I never thought anyone would actually be interested in adopting me either_ , a small part of his mind reminded him, but he shook it off.

It didn’t matter. It wasn’t going to happen. He knew _Carpbitch_ too well to assume that she’d ever agree to anything like that. The woman was a hard ass. You were in the system, or you weren’t. If you weren’t her jurisdiction, you weren’t her problem.

She might as well have told him as much not long before he ran off.

Not that he cared. It wasn’t like he needed her.

But this Pitch guy… he was weird.

Jack wasn’t sure how to feel about him, but hey, the guy could actually keep up with his wit half the time, so points for him.

He rubbed the side of his cheek, where the sting of the slap had long since faded.

Jack was mature enough to admit that he had overreacted a bit when Pitch mentioned wanting to adopt him. But it had just been… too much. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe, felt like it was some sort of trap to just- just…

_Just what?_ He thought bitterly? _To just turn out to be another ‘Jerry’ situation?_

He had overreacted. Maybe.

But Jack honestly hadn’t thought that someone like Pitch actually had the balls to actually _slap_ him. He seemed more like the type of guy to hire someone else to do it for him after discretely threatening you with a shark like smile and taking all your money.

…Sort of like how he’d looked when he got his body guard to get those bastards, Bruce and Will, to back off.

But gutsy or not, sharp or not, the guy wasn’t going to get the adoption put through.

He wasn’t sure who Pitch Black thought he was (that was lie. Obviously he thought he was Pitch Black, the billionaire business tycoon, and thought he could get whatever the hell he wanted it whenever he wanted it.), but Lauren wasn’t just going to put the adoption through because he asked for it. No matter how great his ‘powers of persuasion’ were.

Jack shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket as he wandered around the empty ally.

Adoption. Yeah, right.

_Sorry, Black, but it’s not happening._

He had nothing to worry about.

~*~*~*~*~

 

“Seattle Youth Services Bureau, how may I help you?” a chipper young voice asked, answering the phone.

Pitch frowned. This didn’t sound like the same woman he had talked to that morning. “Yes, is this Lauren Carpwright?”

“No…She’s gone home for today. She won’t be back until tomorrow. May I take a message for you?”

“No, no, it’s perfectly fine. I just needed to schedule an appointment to meet with her.”

“Oh…Well, that should be fine,” the woman said, sounding surprised. Pitch heard the shuffling of papers from the other end of the line. “Will… one o’clock do?”

“Yes, that’d be perfect. Thank you.”

“Not a problem? And what was your name sir? I’ll leave her a note so that she’ll know.”

“Pitch Black.”

The sound of papers falling to the ground came from across the line as the woman was obviously scrambled to pick them up. “Uhm, I’m sorry, what was the name again?” she asked, obviously flustered.

Pitch couldn’t resist smirking a bit.

After dealing with a snarky teenager for the past few days, it was nice to know he still had his touch.

“Pitch Black. Tell Ms.Carpwright she can expect me at one. Thank you.”

And with that, the call was ended.

                                                                                                      ~*~*~*~*~                

 

Pitch paused in front of the door at exactly five til’ one, hand poised to knock.

Was he really ready for this? He wondered.

His meeting had actually gone smoothly for once, and he had made it back in plenty of time. But now he was starting to have second thoughts.

What if he couldn’t persuade this woman to put the adoption through?

He knew that they usually liked to have most of the background information on any perspective parents, as well as walk them through the legal process in several different sessions. Allowing the children to get used to the adults, and vice versa, checking in on them.

But he also knew that it was possible to put through an on the spot adoption, as long as one had access to basic background information, and the permission from the child’s legal guardian.

Which in this case, was the state.

Making things a bit more difficult.

He hoped he could convince the social worker to speak as the state’s sponsor regarding Jack, considering she was in charge of his file.

It technically wasn’t _illegal_ …

But it wasn’t exactly the most kosher of methods either. All he could do is hope that he could persuade this woman to go through with it.

But then an equally terrifying, and hopeful, thought was the idea that it would actually _work_. That he’d actually become Jack’s legal guardian.

What would he do then? He may have had a daughter once, but she had never even reached the age of ten. He had no experience dealing with teenagers. Not to mention the fact that even if he had, he was nearly ten years out of practice…

Pitch shook his head.

Now was not the time to start doubting himself.

It didn’t matter whether he knew how to raise a teenager. He doubted he’d ever forget what it was to be a father. No matter how long ago it was. And _that_ was what mattered in the end.

And he needed _, had_ , to do this.

With his resolve steeled, Pitch raised his fist again, knocking on the door.

“Come in,” a familiar voice called from the other side.

The door creaked open, allowing Pitch to step inside.

The woman in front of him sat behind a large faux oak desk, shuffling one of the many stacks of paper littering the nearby area. Her wiry brown hair was pulled back into a bun, streaks of gray standing out. Glasses sat on the bridge of her nose, amplifying her dark beady eyes.

“Ah. Mr… Black?” Lauren asked, peering over the top of her papers. “Is that correct?”

Pitch nodded. “Yes. I called yesterday morning to inquire about one of the children in your jurisdiction.”

The woman kept her expression carefully schooled as she continued to shuffle the papers about. “Oh?”

“Yes,” Pitch continued, not the least bit put off. “I called inquiring about Jack Frost.”

And just like that, the woman’s fidgeting stopped. “Ah. I thought I recognized your voice,” she remarked off handedly. Her tone went cold. “And I believe I already told you no one that matches the description you gave me has ever passed through my jurisdi-”

“Ma’am,” Pitch cut her off, tonelessly, “If I could be so bold: Could you _please_ cut the crap? I think we both know that you’re lying.”

Lauren sat there, spluttering, but Pitch didn’t give her a chance to get a word in.

“I’ve talked with Jack. I know the basic story behind everything,” Pitch continued calmly as he finally took a seat, his eyes boring into the social worker’s. “I’m aware of the legal situation this puts you, as well as quite a few people in, and your desire to keep it under wraps.” He pursed his lips as he examined her deer in the headlights expression. “I also know when someone is lying. So please, let us just be frank here.”

The woman just continued to gape at him like a fish for a long moment.

Finally, she cleared her throat, sitting up straighter. “Well then. I suppose that’s that,” she remarked dryly. She sighed, setting her papers aside. “Look, Mr.Black, you seem like a very nice man. And I’m honestly impressed that you got Jack to talk to you at all, much less convince him to open up about a small piece of his past… But if you want me to be frank with you, here it is: There’s nothing you can do for him. And there’s nothing _I_ can do either. My hands are tied. I’m sorry,” she said.

“I disagree,” Pitch responded without missing a beat. “I believe there is something that both you _and_ I can do to help him,” he said, picking up a pen from her desk and idly examining it.

Lauren eyed him curiously. “And what’s that?”

Pitch set down the pen and slid the formal request papers that he had had his contractor draw up that morning (he had gotten some strange looks for the request, but it had been completed in time nonetheless) across the desk. “I’d like to try and put forth an adoption for him.”

The social worker froze on spot, clearly unsure how to respond. She picked up the papers, obviously a bit numb from shock. Her eyes scanned the words on the paper, but Pitch wasn’t sure if she was truly absorbing any of it.

Eventually she set the papers down, and took off her reading glasses, massaging the bridge of her nose. “Mr.Black,” she began, clearly at a loss, “I… appreciate, what you’re trying to do. And I’m sorry, but… I can’t put this adoption through. Especially not in the matter of a day!”

“And why not?” Pitch demanded.

He knew why, of course he did. But if he could poke holes in her logic and explanations, it would give him a much better chance.

The woman grimaced. “First of all, the process is extremely complicated to begin with. It usually takes several months for everything to be ironed out. Visitations, paper work. I would certainly have to know more about you personally. But even without that…” she paused, searching for the words. “We have let Jack’s situation slide for various reasons. There’s no way we could bring it to light now without _someone_ getting into trouble with the state. And Jack most certainly would be in the direct line of fire. I’m sorry, I just-I just can’t. If you really want to help some of the local orphaned children, then I can check through my files form the resident orphanages, or put you in contact with one from another _country_ -”

“If I _really_ want to help out a child, then I can simply help Jack,” Pitch replied with cold disdain. “I don’t need to look in another country, or even in any other part of Seattle. There’s a child right here in the streets of this city that needs help. And while you may be able to sleep at night despite ignoring his situation, I cannot.”

Lauren pressed her lips into a thin line. “I’m sorry, but I believe there are some things about Jack, _regardless_ of what he may have told you, that you just simply don’t understand.”

“Maybe not, but considering no one else is even willing to try-”

“There is a _reason_ ,” the woman cut in, her voice steely, “why children like him don’t typically get adopted. Mr.Black you could do everything in the _world_ for that boy, and he will still _never_ trust you.”

For once Pitch remained silent and just continued to glower down his nose at the social worker, silently prompting her to continue.

The woman visibly swallowed, before going back to fiddling with her paper work. “Children who have suffered from amnesia are often… difficult to work with. It’s of no fault of their own of course, but if one were to wake up in strange surroundings full of strange people, with no memory of anything… it’s a bit overwhelming. They’re body’s natural reaction is to believe that the people surrounding them are a threat.” Lauren paused, her eyes going distant. “I remember Jack after he first woke up. He was so skittish… like a cornered animal.” 

_That sounds about right_ , Pitch thought bitterly.

“He wouldn’t go near anyone, would barely talk to anyone. In that state the natural frame of mind is to _not trust anything or anyone_. Jack was a prime example of this… But some kids get better as they continue. They gradually open up more and eventually become more comfortable.”

“And I suppose Jack didn’t?” Pitch interrupted, already guessing where this was leading.

Lauren nodded slowly. “No. He didn’t. He eventually became much less meek. He didn’t stay bedridden and skittish for long. He was a ball of energy with a sharp tongue and even sharper mind. He talked more but… It seemed like the more he talked, the less he _said_. His walls never dropped, and even though he’d interact with people, he never got too close. He never lost that survival instinct from when he woke up. He just… worked around it. The only exceptions were any of the children that were younger than him. I suppose it’s harder to find children threatening…” She sighed shaking her head. “He’d never say much of anything to the therapists, but we always assumed it stemmed from how he lost his memory.”

Pitch frowned, recalling what Jack had told him. “You mean from being left in the snow bank for so long?”

Lauren’s mouth opened and closed for a moment, obviously searching for the right words. “Perhaps. We couldn’t tell what caused it for sure. It may have been because of hyperthermia or frostbite setting in... But it was believed, back when we originally found him at least, to more than likely be caused by disassociation.”

“Disassociation?” he echoed. “What do you mean? Jack hadn’t mentioned anything about that…”

“We… Didn’t believe it was necessary at the time. Not until there was more concrete proof of anything. But there were… wounds, quite a few, found scattered across his body when they first found him. Bruises, scratches, cuts… The sorts that you don’t get just from being thrown into a snow bank. Not to mention the fact that he looked as if he’d taken a rather nasty blow to the head.”

It took Pitch a minute to process that. “You think he was abused,” he breathed, the reality sinking in slowly like a venom.

“Something of the sort,” Lauren replied, clearly uncomfortable. “Suffice to say that if his parents had ever been found they would have been rather thoroughly questioned on suspicion of child abuse and neglect. But, that seemed like the only explanation for the emotional walls that Jack had created. Something form his past had caused the instinct to just _not_ trust people. An instinct that wasn’t- isn’t- easy to overcome.”

She glanced down at her hands, folded on the desk. “We wanted to help, we really did. We tried to keep close tabs on him but… things got hectic, we became preoccupied with other children… then he ran away. And there wasn’t much we could do,” she said, glancing at Pitch sympathetically.

Pitch sat back, digesting all of the information he had just been given.

“How old was he?” he asked suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“How old was he when he ran away from the children’s home?” Pitch repeated, his expression neutral.

Lauren eyed him suspiciously. “I’m not sure. About fourteen?”

Pitch nodded slowly, a fire suddenly alighting inside him. Fourteen. Nearly three years. They had decided to just let a _child_ roam the streets for _three years_ , because they were too _busy?_  

“So you let a fourteen year old _child,_ with a _damaged psyche_ run away from a secure environment, and decided to just _leave_ him there? To just _ignore_ that he ever _existed_?” Pitch hissed.

The social worker immediately tensed up. “Mr.Black, I’d advise you to tread carefully here. There were circumstances that you don’t-”

“Then explain them,” Pitch demanded harshly.

The woman jumped a bit, before pursing her lips, obviously trying to choose how to respond. “When… when Jack fist ran away, no one knew why. No one had ever heard any indication as to why he might leave. So we looked for him for the first few weeks, but all the while, Jerry Hyle, the man who was running the foster home back then, was demanding that he be put behind bars for running off as soon as he was found. And as you can assume, none of us wanted that. So after about a month or so… we let it go. It wasn’t until nearly a year later that the home he came from was shut down. And at that point, there was little we could do to turn the situation around. We would have had to uproot him again, as well as make him go through a trial process, just to _try_ and get him back into a home.”

Pitch’s gaze never wavered as his eyes continued to bore into her. She frowned. “We did what we thought was best,” she pressed.

“No,” Pitch retorted, his brows drawing together in irritation. “You did what was _easiest_.”

Before the woman could get out a word of protest, Pitch held up a hand, stopping her and leaving her sputtering once more.

“And I suppose now, I’m going to ask you to do the same,” his voice was low as he leaned forward, his gaze never wavering. “If you spent this long ignoring the boy, then I see no reason why you couldn’t just ignore the fact that you ignored him before now. It wouldn’t really be a change of pace. Just pretend as if you always had him in the system, and this was a typical adoption. If you haven’t kept up with his files, who will ever question it? It doesn’t need to go through the state _first_. It _can_ go through you.”

Lauren drew back, Pitch’s gaze obviously unnerving her. Her lips pressed back into a thin line. “I-… No. I can’t do that. I’ve let one to many things slide, in Jack’s case especially. I can’t just sign the adoption papers for someone who hasn’t even proved that they have his best interest in mind or is even capable of _being_ a _parent_ , much less-”

_Ring!_

The social worker’s response was promptly cut off by the sharp ringing of the office phone.

Both Lauren and Pitch paused, their eyes snapping over to the offending object.

Lauren grimaced as she looked down at the caller ID, before turning back to Pitch apologetically, “I’m sorry, I have to take this, can you give me a moment?”

Pitch just nodded, and waited silently as the social worker picked up the phone to answer the call. He needed a moment to collect his thoughts to try and think of how to best proceed on the subject. For now he supposed he’d be content to just watch the one sided exchange, it would give him the time he needed to think.

“Hello?” Lauren inquired politely.

“Oh, yes, Mr. Moon,” she said, suddenly seeming frazzled. “What- to what do I owe the pleasure?”

_Moon…?_ Pitch wondered to himself. _That can’t be…_

She paused for a moment, nodding. “Yes, actually he did. I’m with him right now, so-” Lauren broke off mid-sentence, her brows raising higher as she let whoever was on the other end of the line continue.

“I- I see,” Lauren replied, blankly.

Now Pitch really wanted to hear the other half of this conversation. Were they talking about _him_?

“Actually, yes, he was just-,” she was once again cut off, clearly bewildered.  

“I… Sir are you sure that-… I see. Yes, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll do so,” the social worker finally conceded, the bafflement clear in her expression.

A moment later the phone was set back in its cradle, and Lauren turned back to him.

“Well,” she said, heaving a sigh, “I suppose it’s out of my hands now. My… superior has informed me that your request can be put through.”

For once, Pitch was genuinely shocked. He wasn’t sure how to respond to the sudden turn of events.

Lauren didn’t bother to explain herself any further, and rummaged through her file folders, drawing out a large stack of papers.

“It’ll take a while before the state will no longer be considered to have any part in his custody, but you will be his legal guardian. There will be several check ins from a local social worker after the first month, then in several different intervals. Within the next year or so, you will have full legal custody of him,” she explained before looking back up at him. “Is all of this agreeable with you?”

Pitch nodded slowly. “Yes, that sounds reasonable,” he replied, still numb with shock.

“Alright, then,” she said as she shuffled the large stack of papers, giving Pitch a pointed look. “I hope you have at least half an hour, because filling out all the paper work, is going to take a while.”

 

 

It was another hour before all of the necessary documentation had been signed and filed, but Pitch had finally snapped out of shock. And he could honestly say he’d never been more relieved.

It had worked. It had somehow, actually _worked._

As Lauren handed him his copy of the paperwork, and sent him on his way, he felt lighter than ever.

Now, all he had to do was hope Jack reacted well to the news.

 

                                                                                                             ~*~*~*~*~                

The park was the most peaceful during the evenings. All the children had gone home, and while Jack may have missed his fellow trouble makers, he also appreciated the short reprieve. The only people that remained were the occasional jogger and people walking home.

The snow fell softly around him, making the entire scene look like some sort of winter wonderland. The sun was setting but there was more than enough light peeking through the clouds to be able to appreciate the simple beauty of the place.

He wasn’t even sure why he bothered to show up. He knew that Pitch wasn’t going to come. There wasn’t even a remote chance of the adoption being put through.

So Pitch wasn’t going to show.

Or if he did, it’d just be to say he failed and give a formal goodbye.

So being here was basically pointless…

But… it wouldn’t hurt. If there was no chance of Pitch succeeding it wouldn’t matter if he waited here for just a little longer in the serene little park.

Besides, the only risk he was running was being subjected to Pitch’s strange brand of worry and endless questions again.

He honestly wasn’t even sure what to think of the way Pitch acted around him.

The attention was…weird.

But he couldn’t say he didn’t like it. No one had ever really paid him much mind, and now suddenly, out of the blue, some hot shot business tycoon wouldn’t leave him alone. It was a rather abrupt change for him. And if he allowed himself to enjoy the attention a bit, and the conversations to some degree, then hey that was his business and his business alone.

Though liking the attention and _accepting_ it were two very different things, and he still had to be wary. He wasn’t sure what Black was after, if anything, but he needed to stay on his toes.

…Not that Jack _knew_ of anything _he_ could really offer someone like Pitch. The guy could buy just about whatever, or _whoever,_ for whatever price and not blink an eye. He had plenty of positive publicity, probably plenty of underhanded people dealing under the table for him, and plenty of people willing to be at his beck and call. So what Jack could possibly offer him was a mystery.

That’s the only reason he had bought anything the guy had said. Because really, the man didn’t have any _reason_ to lie. He could get whatever he might want from _Jack,_ a lot easier from many different sources. And if he wanted to cash in some sort of ‘favor’ for saving him back in that alley, (and _damnit_ , Jack still couldn’t believe he had let himself get caught in a vulnerable position like that. Couldn’t believe that he’d actually needed someone to save him from those bastards) he would have tried to cash it in already.

But that didn’t mean Jack could trust him. That was a lesson Jack had learned a long time ago: Don’t trust anyone to be on your side. Cuz’ that’s what’s going to get you into trouble. Besides, until he knew what this Black guy was really like, he had no reason to trust that he wouldn’t stab him in the back as soon as Jack felt comfortable enough to turn around.

That’s why he tried to always keep an escape route nearby. On the street, in the diner, and now here in the park with wide open spaces, he knew he could make a clean get away if this Pitch character turned out to not be as harmless as he acted.

But it didn’t matter anyways. He probably wouldn’t have to deal with the guy again. And if he did show, it’d just be to tell him it wasn’t going to happen. He had no reason to worry about it anymore. Pitch’s deal would close soon, the social workers and the state would never put the adoption through before then, and _he_ ’d be out of town on a greyhound by the turn of the week.

For now though, it shouldn’t hurt to wait.

With that in mind, Jack laid back against the rough bark of the tree letting his eyes drift shut, enjoying the feel of the setting sun on his face.

He loved the crisp feel of the winter air washing over him, and the snow between his toes. Winter definitely had to be the most soothing season. But it was rare that he just got to lay back for a while and enjoy it.

It was a nice change of pace.

That is until a shadow was suddenly cast over him as someone cleared their throat.

Jack just gave an exasperated sigh.

“Enjoying yourself?” A familiar voice asked in amusement.

Jack cracked one eye open and sat up squinting against the sun. “I was,” Jack remarked breezily.

“Well by all means,” Pitch said, holding up his hands in surrender. “Don’t let me ruin your evening.”

Jack just shrugged, finally standing up and brushing snow off himself.

“It’s whatever,” he said brusquely, dismissing Pitch’s sarcasm.

But secretly as small spark of unease lit inside him. Pitch had to be here just to say goodbye... right? There was no way he was here because he actually managed to put the adoption through.

“So,” Jack began, ignoring his growing apprehension while examining his fingernails. “Come to humbly admit that you overestimated your powers of persuasion?”

“No, actually,” Pith replied, his expression giving nothing away. “I’m here to show you that _you_ greatly _underestimated_ my powers of persuasion,” he said as he pulled out a small packet of papers from his within his jacket with a flourish.

And just like that, any illusion of control Jack had over the situation shattered.

“Let me see those,” he snapped, snatching the papers out of the man’s hand.

Jack mouthed the words as he read them from the adoption papers.

‘The state now grants, Pitch Black legal custody of Jack (surname unknown).’

Jack’s heart sank to the ground, before suddenly shooting right back up again, rapidly picking up pace.

No… No, no , no , _no_ , _no_.

And there, signed at the bottom of the paper was Lauren Carpwright’s signature.

“How?” Jack croaked, unable to say anything else.

Pitch sounded far too smug as he remarked, “Oh, it wasn’t too much trouble. They weren’t fond of the idea of putting it through, but I was able to make them see my side of things.”

Jack felt his breathing go shallow as he gripped the paper, white knuckled. His pounding heart was deafening in his ears.

It explained that an agent would make a visit in a month or so to check up on how he was adjusting and what not. But Jack wasn’t paying it any attention

_No. No, no, no, no, no._

This wasn’t supposed to happen. This wasn’t even supposed to be an _option_. Jack fought down the growing hysteria. Being _forced_ to _depend_ on someone was never even supposed to be an option.

That was the second thing he had learned rather quickly: don’t depend on anyone. They’ll always let you down. They’ll always _hurt_ you. They’ll _manipulate_ you.

Never trust, never depend. Those were the rules, the basic lessons.

Now he didn’t have a choice anymore. Now he would be _required_ to rely on Pitch.

And suddenly, the air felt too thin, and it felt as if walls were suddenly closing in on him, even though they stood in the open park.

Tapped. He felt _trapped_. As if Pitch himself was holding him down, as if he was the wall closing in on him.

At least out on his own he’d had the _illusion_ of freedom, even with Bruce and Will about. At least then he could _act_ like the world was his and his alone.

Now that option was gone. Ripped right out from under him. And he was trapped. Trapped, trapped, _trapped._

He had to get out.

“Jack?” Pitch called quietly.

Jack’s head snapped up to meet Pitch’s concerned gaze. The man’s hand was partially outstretched, but stopped short of touching his shoulder by a few inches.

Well at the very least he had caught onto the personal space rule.

“Are you alright?” He asked, brow creasing with worry.

“Me?” Jack forced a laugh. “No. I’m fine. Just can’t believe you actually convinced the old bat to go through with it.”

Jack swallowed hard, trying to clamp down on his panic.

If he ran now, Pitch could just call the cops. Or Carp _bitch_. One or the other.

Pitch merely shrugged, looking unconvinced. Well, at least he wasn’t wearing that irritatingly smug smirk anymore.

“In that case, would you like to have the night to gather any belongings you might have? Or would you rather stay with me for tonight?”

“No!” Jack protested, far too quickly. He backtracked a bit at Pitch’s bewildered expression. “I mean,” he amended meekly, “I’d rather have the night.”       

Pitch nodded slowly. “Alright then. In that case I leave from the Kingston hotel at one o’clock. My meeting confirming the deal with Lokia is that morning and shouldn’t take more than an hour. Do you know where it is, or would you rather I have someone pick you up.”

“I know where it is,” he replied impatiently, fidgeting.

_Out, out, out. Get out while you still have the chance._

“Good. Then just meet me there at one and we can leave for the East Coast. I have another associate there that I’ve already had to reschedule meeting with.”

“Sounds good,” Jack responded distractedly.

“Alright,” Pitch confirmed slowly. “So I’ll-”

“See you then,” Jack cut him off, and took off in the opposite direction, trying not to run and not looking back. He didn’t look to see what he knew would be hurt and confusion flit across Pitch’s expression.

“Bring shoes,” he heard Pitch call from a great distance. But he still didn’t turn around.

He couldn’t turn the corner into the closest ally by the park quick enough, before he took off at a breakneck sprint.

He had to leave. Had to get out of this town, out of the state, out of the _country_ , he _couldn’t_ stay here. Not anymore.

_No, no, no, NO!_

_This wasn’t supposed to happen!_ Jack thought frantically as his bare feet pounded against the pavement coming upon the fenced off abandoned warehouse he had been staying in.

This couldn’t happen, he wouldn’t let it.

Jack pulled the warehouse doors shut behind him before pushing his back up against them.

_Trapped. Trapped, trapped, trapped, TRAPPED!_

He suddenly felt claustrophobic, even in the ridiculously large shack he had temporarily called home.

There were no escape routes.

Not anymore.

Jack sprinted up rickety metal stairs to the mesh iron walkway.

Everything he owned sat near a bag towards the back wall. Jack quickly picked it up and began shoving things into the backpack. The flip phone that didn’t have a sim card and was only good for telling time and playing a game of snake when he was bored. Two shirts. An extra pair of jeans, a tooth brush, a blanket, and common medical supplies for times when he did fall ill, or somehow his foot got cut on a piece of glass.

He had to get out. He’d catch a greyhound tonight and no one would ever be the wiser. Just skip town right now and, and-

…And what?

And have to start all over again?

There likely still wasn’t any chance of him being able to find a job that didn’t a) ask him to prove he was over eighteen (which he wasn’t, and couldn’t prove even if he was anyhow), or b) ask for a guardians consent. Which meant he’d once again be _screwed_. And out on the streets. And having to scrounge and steal for food and money. _Again_.

Then there’d be the police to deal with for the stealing, the no guardian situation, and the _Pitch_ situation. People would probably be looking for him once Pitch realized he was missing. He’d no longer be some nameless teen, but an actual runaway that the state cared about.

Which meant the law wasn’t going to be able to ignore him anymore.

Meaning he was thoroughly and completely _fucked_.

Jack let the bag drop as he slid down to the ground, his back against the wall. He leaned his head against his knees, tangling his fingers into his white hair.

What was he supposed to do?

What _could_ he do?

He really was… trapped.

Why had he even made that stupid deal anyway…

Jack suddenly shot up as a thought occurred to him: The deal! It had been part of Pitch’s deal!

_“If you stay for a month, then wish to leave, I’d let you. You could keep in contact... Or, if that’s too restricting for you, then I could have you legally emancipated if you so wished…”_

He only had to wait a month. A month and he could tell Pitch thanks, but no thanks and _legally_ be on his way. He’d never have to worry about the law, or being unable to get a job from lack of a guardian or legal identification ever again.

A month…

A month of being trapped. A month of being subjected to Pitch, and whatever he _really_ wanted from him.

…A month living the luxurious life of a billionaire. He couldn’t deny that that part at the very least didn’t sound like it’d be too awful.

…He could do a moth. No matter what Pitch was really up to, he could handle it.

Besides, what was a month in a luxury hotel compared to nearly three years on the streets?

Jack couldn’t help but laugh to himself hollowly.

Yeah.

He could handle a month.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was the fastest I've written a chapter yet (except chapter one). All the amazing support I've been given on this story has been amazingly encouraging, I adore you all. I just hope I did okay with this chapter. This is one of those chapters where I can't decide whether I was actually satisfied with the end product, or hated it. I just hope I made everything realistic enough, and that Jack's little breakdown at the end seemed natural and in character for the most part. I also hope that the dialogue, and Jack's trust issues didn't come across clichéd or forced. But after combing through this several times, I can't see anything else that I really know to change. So, I hope it turned out good. Thank you to all of you that have commented on this story, bookmarked it, left kudos, or just read it. You guys have been an amazing encouragement. I have a State meet this week, so I'm not sure when I'll get to write, but hopefully I can have chapter six posted by next week.  
> I hope you enjoyed, and concrit is always appreciated!


	6. Chapter Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pitch is in WAY over his head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick disclaimer:  
>  1) I know nothing about Seattle, so I took a lot of creative liberties with the city. If it's wrong, I'm sorry.   
> 2) I also know Burgess is supposed to just be a town, but for the purposes of this story, just imagine that it's a mediocre, urban, metropolitan area? Okay? Okay.   
> Thanks guys! And without further ado, here it is!

Signed.

Signed, and done. _Thank God_.

Pitch wasn’t sure how much more he could have taken of those insufferable idiots. They had been all for voting on whether to allow Pitch partial ownership to the company, but as soon as it came to actually handing it over, they suddenly couldn’t make up their minds about anything. On several occasions he had had to threaten to just drop the whole deal!

But it was over with now, and it was nearly one o’clock.

Pitch waited for the bell hop to catch up with him in the lobby, as he continually checked his pocket watch.

He was having to consciously stop himself from wringing his hands together. Pitch honestly couldn’t remember the last time he had been so nervous…

What if Jack didn’t show?

What if he had just run off?

He had seemed awfully keen on leaving as quickly as possible yesterday…

Jack had suddenly gone oddly quiet as soon as he had handed him the proof verifying the adoption, obviously shocked and unnerved by the news.

What would he do if the boy had run away?

He didn’t want to cause any more problems for Jack but… he couldn’t just leave things as they were.

And then there was still the threat of the men from before lingering in the back of Pitch’s mind.

 But he wouldn’t let himself think about that. Not now. Not yet.

 “Sir?”

 Pitch turned as Boris came up behind him, nodding his head in acknowledgment.

The bell hop arrived only a moment later, and between the two of them, Pitch and his guard managed to carry the sparse luggage to the door.

Pitch paused a moment before following Boris out to the awning, checking his pocket watch one last time.

One o’clock exactly.

Well, now was the moment of truth.

Pitch took a deep breath, closing his eyes and steeling himself, before walking out the door to see…

No one.

Literally, no one.

Pitch frowned at the abandoned black car, his brows drawing together in confusion.

Where were Boris and the driver…?

They had to have been out here not even a moment before-

“How the hell should I know,” a familiar snapped in exasperation.

Pitch’s attention snapped to the street off to the side of the drive way.

There, on the sidewalk, was Jack. Barefoot as ever, and carrying a small backpack slung across his shoulders.

…With Boris and the driver, who were both cutting off his path. The body guard was holding Jack in place by the hood of his hoodie, scowling down at him.

 “Sorry, kid,” the driver said, “But Mr.Black’s has a tight schedule. And we don’t have the time to-”

“Look, he _told me_ to meet him here, so just-” Jack cut off as he noticed Pitch standing behind the two men. “There he is! Just ask _him_!” he growled, pointing to the business tycoon.

Pitch’s mind was still playing catch up.

He was relieved to see that Jack had actually come, and seemed to be perfectly fine. But he hadn’t realized that he had forgotten to tell Boris about the boy.

…And if Jack’s situation was a cause for a bit of amusement for him well then… no one needed to know.

Pitch suppressed a grin, and merely motioned for Boris to release the kid. “Thank you, Boris, but he’s no cause for concern. I must have forgotten to tell you: Jack is going to be staying with me for a while.”

Boris and the driver glanced between the boy and Pitch, before slowly stepping back.

Jack instantly jerked out of their reach, before marching up to Pitch.

“About time you showed up,” he said, huffing in irritation. “Your flying monkeys aren’t exactly pleasant to deal with, ya know.”

Pitch just raised a brow wryly as Boris passed the boy, giving a low growl.

Jack jumped a bit at the sound, before regaining his composure and turning to the body guard, sticking his tongue out at him.

Boris just shook his head and walked back to the luggage sitting on the curb.

“That’s right, keep walking Fido,” Jack called to the man.

Pitch just snorted.

It was no wonder Pitch had originally found him in such a compromising position. The kid obviously didn’t have much in the way of tact…

“I’m sorry,” Pitch said, smirking. “I had forgotten that I hadn’t informed them about you yet.”

“Obviously,” the boy muttered bitterly.

A silence settled between them and Jack shifted uncomfortably, glancing between Pitch and the pavement, obviously unsure how to proceed.

“So,” he said slowly, “are you good to go? Or do your lackeys have more designer bags to bring out.”

Pitch just rolled his eyes at the boy. “No, this is all of it. I prefer to travel light.”

Jack snorted. “You call that _light_?”

“Well,” Pitch replied, eying the small bag the teen was carrying, “I suppose not in comparison to your travel preferences.” He frowned. “Are you sure that you don’t need anything else?”

Jack shrugged. “This is all I’ve got. Never kept much on me.”

Pitch nodded slowly. “I see… we’ll have to rectify that later.”

Jack crossed his arms. “You’re _not_ taking me shopping,” he deadpanned.

Pitch just smirked at the boy (he preferred to pick his battles), before motioning toward the car. “Well, if you’re quite ready, then let’s be off. I don’t want to be any later than I already am.”

Jack just gave an exaggerated sigh. “Sure, whatever,” he said, following Pitch to the back seat of the car.

He paused though at the door, glancing around nervously.

Pitch looked up at the boy, brow creasing. “Is there something wrong?”

Jack bit his bottom lip, shaking his head. “No. I’m good.”

And with that, he slid into the car next to Pitch.

The driver shut the door behind him, and almost instantly, Jack tensed up, eyes darting around wildly.

Pitch eyed him worriedly. “Jack,” he called softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on the boy’s shoulder, but stopping before his fingers could brush fabric.

Jack closed his eyes, letting out a harsh breath through gritted teeth. “I’m good,” he ground out as Boris and the driver climbed into the front seats.

Pitch watched the boy from the corner of his eye as they pulled out of the driveway. Jack never relaxed and kept his eyes screwed shut.

Finally, it dawned on Pitch as to why Jack had been so hesitant to get into the car.

“Have you ever ridden in a car before?” Pitch asked, turning to the boy.

Jack’s eyes snapped open as he jerked to look at Pitch. He stared at the man, wide eyed for a moment, before slowly shaking his head.

“A few times,” he replied, obviously uneasy. “But not in the past few years…”

Pitch nodded slowly. “Are you going to be alright, then?”

Jack just nodded, turning his head toward the dark tinted window. “I’ll be fine.”

Pitch let the subject drop, even as Jack took several measured breaths, before finally rolling down the back window.

Boris turned to the boy, scowling. “Kid, roll up the window. We don’t need-”

Pitch interrupted him with a dismissive wave. “He’s fine Boris. Leave him be.”

Boris paused, clearly shocked, but held his tongue and turned back around. Though, not before glowering at the white haired boy.

Jack just shot the man a smug smirk, clearly pleased with himself.

Pitch sighed, shaking his head.

But at least Jack now seemed a bit more relaxed with the window rolled down. The boy clearly wasn’t fond of being in any sort of confined space. Pitch just hoped that the plane would be large enough to set him at ease.

There weren’t exactly any windows or doors the boy could open to allow himself some fresh air…

But for now, things seemed to have found an uneasy peace. He wasn’t willing to ruin that small victory just yet. He supposed that this time, he’d just let sleeping dogs lie.

 

 

The rest of the ride passed in relative silence, and was, for the most part, uneventful after Jack had finally calmed down a bit.

But now that they had finally reached runway, Pitch wasn’t sure what to expect from the boy.

“We’re here, sir,” the driver called as he put the car into park next to the large jet plane.

Pitch nodded. “Thank you,” he said as he stepped out of the car.

 He turned to look at Jack, who sat with his hand on the door handle. “Are you ready?” he asked the boy.

Jack stayed silent, but opened the door, stepping out to gape up at the plane.

He let out a low whistle. “Man, I never thought planes were this big.”

Pitch came up beside him, relieved that the sight of the plane was met with awe, instead of unease. He grinned. “Actually, this is just a private jet. An actual plane would be a good deal larger.”

Jack turned to him, practically gawking.

Pitch just smirked down at him. “So, are you ready to go then?”

Jack nodded, grinning from ear to ear. “Hell yeah!” he exclaimed, before darting up the stairs leading into the jet.

Pitch just laughed, then turned to the driver to help collect his bags and pay the man for his services.

Within the half-hour, the jet was ready to take off, and Jack was just about bouncing up and down in excitement.

Pitch just watched the boy in amusement, thankful that this wouldn’t be nearly as difficult, or as tense, as the car ride had been.

“I’m rather surprised that you’re so at ease, considering this is your first time flying,” Pitch remarked.

Jack just shrugged, grinning as he looked out the window. “I dunno. I’ve always wished that I could actually fly, ya know? Be able to soar through the air, the wind propelling you forward. It’d be awesome. This is probably the closest you can get in the real world.”

The boy glanced at Pitch. “I see you’re obviously used to it, though.”

Pitch mimicked the boy’s shrug. “Flying around the world is a part of the business. Though I can’t say I’ve ever been quite as ecstatic about it as you seem to be.”

The truth was he had never been very fond of flying. The subject had always made him a bit nervous…

He glanced around, looking for a change of subject.

He stopped as his eyes landed on Jack’s feet, bare as ever. “And _I_ see,” he began, raising a brow, “that you still aren’t wearing any shoes.”

Jack rolled his eyes. “I never said that I would. Besides, I don’t even _own_ any shoes.”

“Wha-” Pitch spluttered for a moment, incredulous. “How can you not even own a pair of _shoes_?”

Jack shrugged. “I’ve decided to take on the Japanese culture’s view of footwear.”

Pitch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “This again, really?”

The boy smirked learning back in the seat. “Hey, it’s a valid point .”

Pitch was about to retort, but was promptly cut off by the pilot announcing that they were taking off.

Jack was grinning so wide as he looked out the window, Pitch was amazed that it wasn’t splitting his face in two.

He was genuinely surprised at the boy. It seemed as soon as something new and exciting was introduced to him, the child’s walls dropped. Pitch wasn’t sure he had ever seen Jack this happy…

He just shook his head. He’d let the subject drop for now, but Pitch knew he would have to significantly invest in a conversation to get the boy to at least _try_ to wear shoes. He wasn’t fond of the idea of being kicked out of restaurants because Jack didn’t meet one of the basic entry requirements.

But that was all the thought Pitch spared on the subject, because in the next few moments, they were airborne. Pitch felt himself tense as they lifted off.

Taking off and landing were always the worst experiences of the trips. But thankfully, once the plane reached the designated ten thousand feet, he was usually fine.

“This is awesome!” Jack exclaimed as he practically pressed his face to the window. He pulled back to grin at Pitch. “You’ve got to check this out!”

Pitch just hummed, settling back in his seat with a magazine. “I think I’ll pass, thank you.”

“Oh, come on!” the boy pressed, tugging at his sleeve. “The view’s amazing!”

Pitch pulled his arm out of the boy’s grasp, glowering lightly. “ _No thank you_. I’m good where I am.”

Jack pulled back, considering.

Slowly, a maniacal smirk grew across the boy’s face, replacing the innocent excitement that had been there previously.

“Wait a second,” he said, “Are you- don’t tell me you’re afraid of heights.”

Pitch just scowled down at his magazine, refusing to answer.

Jack let out a shocked laugh. “Wow. You’ve got to be kidding me. You’re actually _scared_ of _heights_!” the boy crowed.

Pitch frowned, turning to the boy. “I’m not scared of them. They just make me uneasy. It’s nothing abnormal.”

Jack just continued to grin deviously. “Oh, this is great. The infamous Pitch Black is afraid of something as simple as heights. What’s next, bugs?”

“I quite like bugs actually,” Pitch commented off handedly, as he went back to his magazine.

Jack scoffed. “You would.”

But the Cheshire grin never left his face, and even as he turned back to look out the window, Pitch felt a bit uneasy.

He had a sinking feeling about this trip…

~*~*~*~

 

“So where are we going again?” Jack asked as he glanced out the open car window.

Pitch heaved a sigh. The flight had taken a good four hours, with Jack exploiting his newfound discovery all the while. (He really hadn’t needed to know whether or not the teen thought they would survive if they locked themselves in the bathroom during a plane crash. Or all the different ways a wing could be torn off the jet, leaving them to tumble to the ground.) And now that they had finally landed in Virginia, they still had yet to reach the heart of the city.

“The inner city of Burgess,” Pitch replied, not bothering to look up from the iPad he was currently working off of.

“And what are we supposed to be doing there?”

Pitch glanced at the boy. “ _We_ are not doing anything. I have an old friend of mine who currently has a rather successful business in this area. I’m hoping to catch him at his headquarters so that we can discuss a business transaction.”

“So in other words, boring stuff?” the boy groaned.

Pitch just shook his head, suppressing another sigh. “I told you I could drop you off at the hotel first.”

“Which would have been twice as boring,” Jack retorted, sitting up straight.

Pitch rolled his eyes at the boy’s antics. “Don’t worry. We’re just about there. This is merely a casual meeting. I’m dropping in for a visit right now. I just wanted to let him know that I’m here. So this shouldn’t take too long.”

Jack sat back with a huff, crossing his arms.

It only took another five minutes before they finally pulled up in front of a tall building, its many windows reflecting in the setting sunlight.

The new driver turned to the two of them. “We’re here, Mr.Black. Is there anything  else you need?”

Pitch shook his head, and motioned for Jack to climb out. “No thank you. We shouldn’t be more than a few minutes.” He turned to his body guard. “Boris, you can wait here as well. We should be fine for now.”

The bulky man nodded, turning forwards once more as Pitch followed Jack out of the car.

Jack cocked his head to the side, considering the building for a long moment.

“You know,” the boy said, still eying the building curiously. “I never got to go into one of these buildings in Seattle.”

Pitch turned to him. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Jack just shrugged. “Never had a reason to. And even if I did, it wasn’t like they were going to let me past the lobby.” He scoffed. “They seemed to think I was always out to steal something.”

“You probably were,” Pitch said drily.

Jack just grinned. “Hey, I never said it wasn’t _true_.”

“Yes, well,” Pitch began as he pushed the door to the building open, “try not to commit any illegal acts while here, please. It wouldn’t exactly make a good first impression…”

Jack followed him into the building, and Pitch pretended he didn’t see the mischievous spark that lit up the boy’s eyes. He supposed he’d just have to be prepared for whatever came about…

He stopped by the front desk, where a bored young woman sat, her head in her palm.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” Pitch called, startling the girl.

She jumped up, a good foot in the air, and Pitch gave a shark-like smile.

That was always fun…

“I don’t suppose you could direct me to the chairman’s floor, could you?” He asked smoothly.

The girl hesitated, before nodding frantically. “Uh, y-yes, sir! The top floor sir!”

Pitch nodded, sagely. “Thank you,” he said, turning to leave. But he paused, only a foot away from the desk. “Oh, and young lady?”

The girl looked up at him, clearly disconcerted. “Yes?”

The shark smile grew larger. “You may want to pay a bit more attention to your work, hmm?”

The poor thing stiffened, before hurriedly stuttering out. “Y-yes, sir. T-Thank you, sir.”

Jack trailed after him, as he stopped in front of the elevators, before glancing back at the girl working the front desk.

The boy just shook his head as they stepped into the elevator.

As soon as the doors slid shut, he turned to Pitch. “Can you not go _anywhere_ without trying to intimidate people?”

Pitch just shot him a secretive smirk. “Now what fun would that be?”

Jack rolled his eyes as they came to their floor, before stepping out.

Pitch glanced around, spotting several workers that he remembered from years ago.

He turned to Jack, pointing to a nearby seating area.

“Stay here,” he said. “I just need to speak with the chairman then we can go.”

Jack shrugged. “Sure,” he said, plopping down into one of the plastic chairs.

Pitch narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I’m serious, Jack,” he warned.

The boy just held out his hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I know. I’ll stay, alright?”

Pitch still eyed him warily. He didn’t trust the boy’s word for a second, especially since he still had that tell-tale gleam in his eyes. But there was nothing else he could do. He couldn’t just drag Jack around to interior in all of his business affairs.

So with eyes still narrowed at the boy, Pitch turned, stalking down the hallway, and hoping to find the main office.

There were many familiar faces, but few he could place names to. Which wasn’t surprising, considering he hadn’t been here in nearly ten years…

But finally, he came across a much familiar face… or he supposed in this case, a familiar beard.

“Ah,” he said, walking towards the back office. “Phil,” he called, gaining the large man’s attention. “How have you been?”

The burly man squinted at him for a moment, before drawing back in surprise.

“Black?” he asked, moving to greet the man. “What are you doing here? I haven’t seen you in years?”

Pitch stopped in front of the thick necked man, looking up into beady black eyes. Phil’s shaggy brown hair was now long enough to pull back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. But even more impressive still, was his goatee, which now was long enough to brush against his chest.

Pitch let out a hollow chuckle. “It certainly has been a while,” he said, purposely avoiding the question for a moment. “Though I see not much about you has changed… besides the length of your hair that is.”

He remembered how Phil worked, the more you gave him the run around, the more annoyed he became. And the more annoyed he was, the less problem he had passing you on to someone higher up.

Phil frowned, but just nodded. “Thanks,” he replied, his voice gruff, to the point of nearly being undistinguishable. His eyes narrowed. “But _why_ are you here, Black?”

_Well, looks like that’s that_ , Pitch mused to himself.

“I’m looking for North. He and I had agreed to meet when I flew in,” Pitch answered, clasping his hands behind his back. “He didn’t inform you?”

Phil shook his head. “North’s not in. He doesn’t come here often. Prefers to work in the local shop. He only visits about once or twice a week.”

Pitch’s brows drew together. “He told me he would be in the work place…”

The large man just shook his head. “That _is_ his work place. It’s where he spends most of his time, anyways. Probably just forgot you didn’t know where he meant.”

Pitch glanced off to the side, running his fingers through his black hair in agitation. “Well then, this was a waste of a trip,” he grumbled, before turning back to the burly man. “In that case, where is this local shop of his?”

“Same place it’s always been,” Phil grunted. “He ain’t moved places in nearly twelve years. I trust you can remember the way?”

Pitch just sighed. “Yes, I remember. I can’t believe he’s still running a business out of that old shack, though.”

Phil shrugged. “He likes it there.” He glanced around, scowling. “Either way, you ain’t gunna find him here. Your best shot is to try tomorrow morning.”

“Alright then,” Pitch agreed with a grimace. “I suppose I’ll just have to catch him there. Thank you for your help, Phil.”

The thick-necked man just nodded. “Sure. Here, I’ll walk ya out.”

Pitch wasn’t about to disagree. He knew what the other man was trying to do; he’d done it plenty of times himself. Make a polite gesture of some sort as an excuse to further interrogate a person.

So he just nodded, and began walking back the way he had come, Phil beside him.

He didn’t have to wait long for his assumption to be proven correct.

“So,” Phil started, “what are you visitin’ North for?”

Pitch gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Oh, you know,” he replied, nonchalant, “just stopping by to say hello to an old friend, talk business a bit. Nothing out of the ordinary.”

Phil scoffed. “Yeah. We haven’t seen hide nor hair of you in nearly ten years, now you’re just back for a ‘chat.’”

Pitch raised a brow at the man. “I see no reason as to why not. My interests lie in this direction. Why shouldn’t I just drop in and discuss business with a good friend?”

Phil just grunted again as they reached the front hallway that held the elevator.

“Well,” Pitch said, dipping his head in acknowledgment, “it was nice to see you again, but I really must be going.” He turned his attention to the waiting area. “Jack. Come alon-”

He broke off at the sight of the empty chairs.

_Oh no_ , He groaned inwardly.

“Jack?” Pitch called, glancing around for any signs of the boy.

Nothing.

Phil frowned, obviously confused. “Who’s Jack?”

Pitch brushed past him, only half paying attention. “He’s my ward. It told him to wait here…” He trailed off, as he glanced over the many offices.

There was still no sign of him.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Pitch grumbled under his breath. “The first day, and I’ve already lost the boy.”

“Jack!” He called again, catching the attention of many of the workers. But he honestly couldn’t care less.

He could not afford to lose Jack this early on. If he couldn’t even keep track of the boy for one day….

“JACK!” Pitch shouted, going to the next side of the thin glass divider.

Still no response.

“You’ve lost the boy?” Phil demanded gruffly.

Pitch scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration. “Apparently. I don’t know where he could have gone off to…”

“What does he look like?”

Pitch stumbled for a moment. “He- he’s about sixteen or seventeen, was wearing a blue hoodie, barefoot-”

“Did he have white hair?” a voice asked, speaking up.

Pitch turned to see one of the women learning out form her office.

“Yes,” he answered quickly. “Did you happen to see him?”

The woman nodded, adjusting her crooked glasses.

“Yes. I saw him take the stairwell leading to the rooftop a minute or so ago,” she said, pointing to a door not far from the elevator.

Pitch felt himself pale.

The rooftop. Of course. It just _had_ to be the rooftop.

Pitch let out a pained sigh.

“Thank you,” he told the woman, before heading towards the door.

“Do you need any backup?” Phil asked, now obviously a bit amused.

Pitch just shook his head. He’d rather just get this over with with _minimal_ humiliation.

He shut the door firmly behind him, and began climbing up the narrow stairway, trying not to think about how he was now going to the _roof_ of a fifteen story building.

When he found Jack he was going to _wring his neck_.

Pitch took a deep breath as he reached the door to the roof, before pushing it open to see the wide expanse of the concrete and….

Nothing.

Pitch frowned, and suddenly a cold panic began to grip him.

That woman _had_ said that Jack had come up here…right?

So where was he?

He didn’t see him anywhere…

He couldn’t have- couldn’t have _fallen_ -

“Hey!” a familiar voice called from behind him.

Pitch startled and spun around quickly, backing up a bit in order to see over the lip of the tin covering.

And there, on top of the tin, bricked in structure covering the stairway, was Jack.

Pitch let out a relieved breath at seeing the boy safe. But it only took a minute for his relief to morph into outrage.

“What are you doing up there!” Pitch called up to the boy, furious.

Jack shrugged, from his perched position atop the structure. “Just enjoying the view. It’s more fun up here.”

Pitch growled. “I thought I told you to stay put!”

Jack cocked his head to the side in mock-thought. “Hmmm… Did you? Are you sure about that?”

Pitch had to stop himself from grinding his teeth together. “Get down from there, this instant! Before you manage to slip off and get yourself killed!” he ordered.

Jack laughed mockingly. “Why should I?”

“You insolent-,” Pitch cut himself off with a snarl. “Get down before I go up there and _kill you myself_!”

Jack just snorted, turning back to the edge of the roof. “Yeah, right.”

Pitch was practically shaking. Both in fear and in rage.

This was a tin structure, probably covered in ice, sitting on top of a fifteen story roof! And the boy was barefoot!

The brat was going to get himself killed at this rate…

And they were so incredibly, incredibly high up… without any sort of support system.

Could that roof even hold the weight of two people?

“Fine then,” Pitch spat, clenching his jaw. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He marched right up to the crates (more than likely discarded scraps of materials that the company believed they may later have use for) that were stacked close to the edge of the brick and metal structure.

He paused, having to steel his resolve once more before hefting himself up on top of them, reaching for the metal ledge. It wasn’t too hard with his height, but once he was actually eye level with the ledge, and about to swing his leg up to get a good grip, it hit him just how high he really was.

Pitch’s breathing became a bit labored, and his legs were suddenly trembling.

But he wasn’t going to stop here. Not now.

With a deep breath, Pitch heaved himself atop the structure covering the stairway.

Jack turned to look at him from his crouched position, overlooking the street down below, wide eyed.

“What are you doing up here?” the boy exclaimed, clearly taken aback.

Pitch crouched on shaky legs, trying to make it to a standing position.

“I told you,” he gritted out, “if you weren’t going to come down on your own, I’d come get you.”

Jack arched a brow. “I thought you were afraid of heights?”

“Not afraid,” Pitch panted, attempting to gain his footing. “Just uneasy.”

Pitch wavered, his pin-wheeling before he regained his balance.

Jack stood up suddenly, reaching out a bit, brow furrowed. “Dude, just get down-Woah!”

The boy cut off as his foot suddenly slipped on the ice slicked metal of the roof. Jack scrambled to find purchase on the structure to keep himself from falling.

Pitch’s heart jumped into his throat as the child slipped, and he reached out a hand, desperately hoping to catch hold of him.

But Jack’s grip held, leaving him hanging on precariously to the tin ridges as he looked down into the city traffic. He let out a quick gasp, turning back to Pitch and finding his footing again.

Pitch felt nearly sick with relief and worry.

His voice trembled with his legs as he held out his hand again. “Please. Please just come down from here.”

Jack just nodded, clearly shaken.

Pitch let out a sigh of relief as he lowered himself back down to the boxes, and onto solid ground; Jack following only moments after.

The boy’s feet had barely touched the concrete before Pitch grasped his shoulders, personal boundaries be damned.

“Don’t you _ever,”_ he said, giving the boy a slight shake, wishing he could just shake some sense into the child, “- _EVER_ do anything like that again. Do you understand me?”

Jack just stared at him blankly.

Pitch took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

But his voice was still raspy when he spoke next. “Do you have any- _any_ , idea what you just put me through? If you had _fallen_ -,” he stopped, unable to continue.

If Jack had fallen, he would have died. And if that had happened… Pitch didn’t know if he could handle that. Not again. Even with knowing the boy for such a short period of time, he still couldn’t even bear the thought of what it would mean to lose another child to death’s grip.

“Don’t do it again,” Pitch finished, a bit lamely, letting the boy go.

Jack stared at him for a moment more before nodding slowly.

Pitch let out a pent up breath, before nodding as well.

“Alright then,” he said, motioning toward the stairway. “Let’s go back down.”

Jack followed him, still strangely quiet.

Once they finally reached the fifteenth floor waiting area, Phil was standing there waiting for him.

The burly man glanced behind Pitch to see the scrawny child who padded after him.

“I see you found him then,” Phil observed. “Was starting to get worried with you takin’ so long.”

“Yes, it took a bit of… convincing,” Pitch said, glancing behind him to see the teen rolling his eyes. “But everything’s fine.”

“Good to know.”

Jack finally seemed to snap out whatever dazed silence he had fallen into, and stepped out from behind Pitch to look the burly man up and down.

Pitch tensed.

He hadn’t even _thought_ how Jack might react to someone like Phil.

Would he see the intimidating size as more of a threat?

Phil eyed the boy as well, obviously sizing him up.

Finally, Jack snorted, breaking the tense silence.

He gestured between Pitch and Phil. “You’ve got to be kidding me with this, right?” he asked, chortling.

Pitch opened his mouth to respond, but Phil beat him to it.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, kid?” the large man demanded.

Jack held up his hands in surrender. “Oh, nothing, nothing. Just you know- _Where_ exactly did you get your beard from? The traveling circus?” he snickered.

Pitch held in a groan.

It was good to know the kid wasn’t too shaken…. But couldn’t the silence have at least lasted until they were out of the building?

Phil growled. “Watch yourself, short stuff.”

Pitch glared down at Jack. “Jack, that’s enough-”

But the boy just pressed on. “No, but seriously! Does anyone ever mistake you for bigfoot? You know from a distance, _or_ up close?”

Phil narrowed his eyes at the kid, but before either of them could get another word in, Pitch put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, interrupting.

“Well, it was very nice to see you Phil,” he cut in as he made his way to the elevator, dragging Jack with him. “If you get the chance, tell North I dropped by. But I’ll take your advice and find him later tomorrow.”

Phil just raised a brow as the elevator doors opened, and Pitch slid inside, pushing Jack along.

“Thank you,” Pitch called, giving a forced, cheery wave.

Finally, after the doors had slid shut, Jack yanked his arm out of Pitch’s grasp, and Pitch willingly let him go.

He fell back against the elevator wall, scrubbing a hand down his face with a groan.

Pitch glared at Jack out of the corner of his eye as the boy snickered, before just leaning his head back against the cool metal in defeat.

It was official.

This boy really _would_ be the death of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter was ridiculously difficult, I also had next to no time to work on it during the week. And to be completely honest, I'm not sure I really liked how it turned out... I don't know. Maybe it was because while I have many of the chapters planned, and what I want to do with them, I had nothing for this one. There were parts that were easier to wright then others, but for the most part, I'm not sure if I liked it. I hope y'all did though! If you have any advice to give me on this, feel free to.   
> Also, WHAT IS THAT THING THAT IS ON TOP OF THE ROOF THAT COVERS THE STAIRS CALLED OH MY GOD I TRIED TO FIND THIS FOR SO LONG AND I COULDN'T DOES ANYONE KNOW? I'm sorry. That just frustrates me. But seriously, is this common knowledge? Does anyone know?   
> And... Yes. Pitch is afraid of heights. Why? ....I'm not sure. I think it has to do with how this idea originally came from Pretty Woman (still have no clue...). But I could honestly see him being that type of person if he were human.   
> So, I hope I did okay with the characterization and the flow of this chapter, and that y'all enjoyed it! Good news: part of the reason this was a bit late was because I was at a state meet. And I am now a State Champion! Woot! School is also ending, meaning this week I should have a lot of time to work on catching up in my writing. Bad news: Summer is coming, and that means I'm going to be twice as busy. So regular updates, might be a bit harder to do. Hopefully I can pull through, but we'll see.   
> Either way though, I'm working on chapter seven, and once again I hope to have it posted by the end of the week. Thanks to all of you gorgeous human beings who have left comments, kudos, bookmarked, or just read this story! You guys keep me writing through the writers’ block! I hope y'all at least enjoyed the chapter!


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bunny, North, Jack, and Sandy get put into one room together, and no one can finish their sentences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to do accents. Not sure how that turned out.  
> Sorry it's a day or so late, but here's the next chapter!

The driver turned to them as they climbed back into the car.

“How did it go, sir?”

Pitch slammed the door shut behind him, glaring at Jack. “Ask _him,_ ” he gritted out.

Both Boris and the driver turned to the boy questioningly.

Jack just shrugged, smirking. “I think it went great.”

Pitch groaned, letting his head fall into his hands.

~*~*~*~

“Whoa,” Jack breathed as they stepped into the foyer of the penthouse.

Pitch smirked down at him, and gestured about the room.

“This is where we’ll be staying for a while. There are two rooms, each with their own bathroom, as well as a smaller room that can serve as an office space,” Pitch explained as he strode across the marble floor, Jack trailing behind him. “You may take your pick for whichever room you want. Either one will suffice for me.”

He turned to look back at his ward, only to find the boy still gawking at the lavishly furnished living area.

“Jack?” Pitch asked, calling the boy back to the present.

Jack turned to look at him, incredulous. “You call _this_ a hotel room? This is like a- a- mansion or something!”

Pitch chuckled. “Not exactly. But it’s not a hotel room,” he corrected. “It’s a penthouse. There is a bit of a difference.”

Jack didn’t even seem to be listening to him, as he wondered around the large room, trying to take everything in.

Pitch shook his head fondly at the boy’s amazement.

“Well,” he said, clearing his throat and gaining the boy’s attention once more. “The rooms are over there, and there.” He pointed to both sides of the apartment, towards two ornate wooden doors. “You can take your pick.”

Jack didn’t waste any time bounding over to one of the doors, not bothering to even put any discretion into the decision.

Pitch followed at a slower pace, and when he reached the room he found Jack already practically bouncing on the bed in excitement.

“So,” he asked, chortling a bit at the boy’s antics, “do you like the rooms?”

Jack stilled as he finally seemed to come back down to reality, and looked at Pitch fully for probably the first time since arriving at the hotel.

The boy scratched the back of his neck, blushing a bit. “Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I mean, I guess it will work.” He shrugged, obviously trying to appear nonchalant.

Pitch just gave a small smile at the boy’s obvious façade.

He leaned against the doorway as Jack wandered around the room, shaking his head.

“Just so you’re aware,” Pitch began, gaining Jack’s attention again, “I’m not sure how long we’re going to be here. It all depends on how matters work out.”

“Okay,” Jack replied absentmindedly, opening the drapes to look out the window.

 “I’m heading out by nine o’clock tomorrow morning. I was hoping to catch North, and then maybe go visit the town. Would you like to come?” Pitch offered, raising a brow.

Jack considered it for a moment. “Yeah, sure. Sounds better than staying cooped up in here all day.”

“Excellent,” he said, straightening up, “then I can expect to see you bright and early in the morning?”

Jack just nodded, before plopping back down on the bed. “Sure.”

Pitch considered the boy for a moment. “Will you be alright then?”

The boy sat up straight, rolling his eyes. “Yes, Pitch,” he replied, exasperated. “I’m fine.”

The man nodded absently, wondering how to continue. He hesitated for a moment by the doorway, before settling on, “Well, goodnight then.”

Jack waved him off as he turned around. “Uh-huh,” was the boy’s halfhearted response.

Pitch just sighed, and closed the door behind him as he made his way to the opposite room.

It was late, and Pitch had no doubt that it would be a long day tomorrow.

Not to mention what the morning _alone_ would probably be like.

_…It should prove to be interesting_ , Pitch mused to himself.

He hadn’t shared a living space with anyone for quite some time, it would take a while to readjust to having to look out for someone.

But for now, he could sleep.

He’d worry about what tomorrow might bring when it came.

 

 

The lavish rooms (which were maybe a bit overdone for his tastes, but hey, who was he to judge), were amazing. The bed felt like heaven, and should have been calling his name but…. Actually sleeping on it was a different story.

Jack sat curled up on the chair in front of the window, gazing up at what few stars were visible.

As nice as having a room and a bed like this was… he couldn’t bring himself to sleep here. It just felt wrong, somehow.

After spending so long just settling wherever he could, he guessed a huge, fluffy bed wasn’t something his body was used to.

Or even really wanted at this point.

And even just thinking about spending a night here…. It didn’t sit well with him.

_Traitor_ , Jack thought viciously to himself.

He finally had something nice, and now, he wasn’t even going to be able to enjoy it.

So it didn’t look like he was going to be getting any sleep tonight.

Just great.

Jack sighed, and picked up one of the pillows on the bed, dragging it behind him as he went out into the foyer.

Well, if a bed was a bit too much, maybe the couch would do at the very least.

He had occasionally been lucky enough to find a couch or old mattress to crash on in the past few years.  

Maybe this would be a bit better. A bit more normal.

Jack curled up on the cool cloth seats, and wrapped himself around the pillow.

The foyer was colder than his room had been; it was much more comfortable if you asked him.

And slowly, Jack felt himself drift off into sleep.

~*~*~*~

Pitch dragged himself into the main room the next morning, fully intending on having a cup of coffee before he bothered to interact with anyone or anything.

He suspected that Jack was still asleep in his room, probably still sleeping off the previous day’s jetlag.

So when he passed the couch, he almost missed the small, pale boy curled up there.

Almost.

Pitch did a double take as he passed the sleeping boy.

_What on earth…_ He wondered.

Now he was a bit more awake…

“Jack?” Pitch called softly.

There was no response.

The man walked toward the boy slowly, before setting a hand on his shoulder, giving him a small shake.

“Jack,” Pitch called again, a bit louder this time.

Suddenly, Jack bolted upright, knocking Pitch’s hand away, and lunged for him, eyes wild.

Pitch reeled back, but not in enough time to dodge the thin boy.

Pitch crashed to the ground, Jack on top of him, hands not quite at his throat.

Both stayed there, frozen for a split moment, before coherence returned in Jack’s eyes, and the boy suddenly scrambled away from him.

“Sorry,” the boy gasped, “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t, didn’t mean to…”

Pitch sat up slowly, still winded (for someone so light, that small body could sure pack one hell of a punch).

“Don’t worry about it,” he replied, still shaken. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Jack didn’t look up from his kneeling position on the rug, and just continued to take measured breaths.

Pitch felt his heart clench at the sight.

He really didn’t know what he had done to cause the boy to panic so suddenly, but he wished he could take it back now. He hadn’t meant to hurt Jack at all…

“Jack?” The boy finally looked up at him. “Are you alright?”

Jack hesitated for a moment, before nodding, his breathing finally returning to normal.

Pitch faltered, unsure whether to ask the boy what was on his mind. “Were… Was it a nightmare of some sort?”

Jack paused, turning his attention back to the carpet as if it were the most interesting thing in the world at the moment.

“You just startled me,” he answered quietly, before standing up on shaky legs.

Pitch rose with him, uncertain how to proceed. Jack hadn’t answered his question, not really. But then again, he hadn’t really expected him too.

Jack drew a shaky breath, then turned to Pitch fully, trying to force some semblance of normalcy into the situation with a smirk. “So, old man. Time to get ready for the day?”

Pitch nodded, figuring he might as well play along. He’d have time to question the boy about sleeping on the couch later. “Yes. I was actually just about to grab a cup of coffee.”

Jack crinkled his nose. “Ugh. How can you drink that stuff?”

Pitch smiled a bit. It felt forced, but it was better than nothing. “I happen to think it’s one of the world’s most precious gifts to mankind.”

The boy snorted. “Of course you do. It’s black and bitter.” He cocked his head in mock consideration. “Kind of like you.”

Pitch just rolled his eyes, before heading back to the coffee maker. “Yes, well. If you’re quite done in here, I’d suggest you go start getting ready for today.”

Jack waved him off, trudging back to his room. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, yawning.

Pitch watched the boy go, but spoke up before he could disappear behind the door. “Jack.” The boy turned to him once more clearly puzzled. “I… Are you sure you’re alright?”

Jack’s expression darkened a bit.

“I said I was fine,” he said, clearly exasperated, as he crossed his arms.

Pitch knew that wasn’t all there was to the subject, but he let it drop, nodding his head.

He turned back to the coffee maker as Jack closed the door behind him.

Yeah. Today was going to be a _long_ day.

~*~*~*~

“So, what’s this North guy like anyways?” Jack asked as they passed by the smaller buildings at the edge of town.

Pitch thought for a moment. “Well, I suppose the best way to describe him would be… sort of like a Russian Santa Clause.”

Jack practically chocked on his laughter. “A- a what?” he spluttered.

“You heard me,” Pitch said, as he held back a smile.

“What does this guy even do?”

“His company is made up of many different facets. Furniture, basic house hold items, etc. But, apparently what he enjoys spending most of his time on, is toy making,” Pitch said drily.

It really was such a waste of talent…

Jack raised a brow, glancing out the window.

The car rolled to a stop outside a large wooden building covered with windows.

Pitch grimaced as the ride finally came to an end. Hopefully he could get this meeting over with as painlessly as possible.

Although, considering his running luck, he highly doubted it.

“This shouldn’t take too long. I’m just hoping to arrange a time that we can meet to discuss business.” Pitch turned to Jack. “Stay in the car,” he said sternly. “I don’t want a repeat of yesterday, understand me?”

Jack waved him off carelessly. “Yeah, yeah.”

Pitch just grimaced, before sliding out of the car.

But he turned to the boy one last time. “I’m serious, Jack. _Stay here_.”

The boy just rolled his eyes, and Pitch gave a sigh of defeat as he closed the car door.

He’d just have to deal with whatever happened. (Thankfully the shop was only two stories tall, so his outlook was already a bit brighter. Not that that was saying much.)

Pitch knew, he _knew_ he should have been prepared to be bombarded as soon as he entered the building.

It still didn’t make much of a difference though.

The bell on the door chimed as he walked in, causing the large, white bearded man standing at the front desk, carefully carving a piece of wood, to look up.

Blue eyes lit up immediately.

“Pitch!” North cried as he lumbered over to greet the man. “Phil told me you might be coming today! Iz so good to see you, old friend!”

Pitch ducked to the side, to avoid being crushed by one of the large man’s hugs. “Likewise. I’m sorry I didn’t meet with you yesterday,” he said, examining his fingernails disinterestedly.  “I was unaware that you still considered this to be your official headquarters.”

North let out a hearty laugh. “Yes, yes. After all these years, what can I say?” The man shrugged, grinning. “I still prefer workshop. Iz much more… personal.”

Pitch inclined his head in understanding. “I have no doubt.”

But he didn’t get a chance to continue before someone else cut into their conversation.

“Black? What are _you_ doin’ here?” A heavily accented voice asked.

Pitch turned to see a tall man with gray streaks running through his dark brown hair rounding one of the shelves, arms crossed.

“Ah,” Pitch said drily. Of course, he’d run into _him_ of all people here. “Aster. It’s so nice to see you again, after all these years.”

Green eyes narrowed. “Sure it is. And you’re back, why exactly?”

“Bunny!” North exclaimed. “Iz rude to talk like that! Pitch is friend, yes! He iz free to visit.”

“Well,” Pitch said cutting in, “unfortunately, this trip isn’t just for catching up on old times. I’m afraid I am also have some discuss to business with you as well.”

“See!” Aster cried, triumphant. “Told ya.” He turned to North. “I knew it as soon as Phil said he had sent im’ our way.”

Pitch rolled his eyes. “Oh, Rabbit-”

“ _Bunny_. Not Rabbit. It’s been ten years and you _still_ -”

 “Would you stop being so over dramatic,” Pitch cut him off mid-rant. “It’s just that I wish to have a simple discussion over a few mattes, that’s all.”

The Australian snorted. “Yeah. Sure ya do.”

“Now Bunny,” North chastised, “there iz nothing wrong with business talk. It does not hurt anything! Besides, it gives us even better chance to catch up, yah?”

The large man turned back to Pitch. “But actually, this may not be the best time to discuss business. Very busy day today. And I’m sure Bunny and Sandy-” He suddenly cut himself short, as if just realizing something. “Oh! Sandy! I almost forgot. He will want to see you as well, let me call him in ‘ere-”

“No, no,” Pitch interrupted. “That won’t be necessary. I just wanted to drop in for now and ask-”

“Hey, Pitch!” An all too familiar voice interrupted, far too cheerfully in his opinion.

Pitch groaned, before rounding on the boy standing in the doorway. “Jack!” he seethed. “Didn’t I tell you to stay in the car!”

The white haired teen shrugged as he sauntered toward the front counter. “Yeah? So…?”

“Whoa- Wait, wait a second here,” Aster suddenly spoke up, looking as lost as North, and more than a little frustrated. “Who the bloody hell is this?”

“Bunny, language!” North cried, scandalized.

Pitch pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath, trying to think of what to say. “He’s- Jack’s my… ward, I suppose you could say.”

 “Ward?” Jack asked, smirking as he raised a brow. “Who the hell says ‘ward’ anymore, seriously?”

“Jack-” Pitch hissed, but didn’t get any further.

North let out a deep laugh. “Boy has spirit!” The large man praised, gesturing to the barefoot hellion. “I like dat!”

Bunny gestured between the boy and himself, vexed. “So wait, when _he_ says it, it’s _cute_?”

North grinned. “No. Just funny.”

Bunny opened and closed his mouth, before just shaking his head, and turning on Pitch. “And what does that even mean?” he demanded, picking up his questioning right where he had left off. “He’s your _ward_?”

Pitch regarded him coolly. “It means, Rabbit-”

“ _Bunny,_ ” The man cut in with a growl, only for Pitch to further ignore him.

“-that the state has made me Jack’s legal caretaker,” Pitch clasped his hands behind his back. “I would have thought you were smart enough to figure _that_ much out on your own.”

North stepped in, a smile nearly splitting his face in half, making his blue eyes look slightly… well, deranged, in Pitch’s opinion. “This iz _your son_? This iz wonderful news to hear!” he crowed, clapping his hands happily.

Jack turned to the Russian so fast, Pitch swore the boy might have gotten whiplash. “Wow, wow- Wait a minute,” he cut in, holding up his hands. “I’m _not_ his _son_ -”

Pitch interrupted him, hoping to get things under control before they spiraled further into chaos. “Jack let me handle this. Just go back to the car-”

“What? No way!” Jack cried, pouting. “It’s boring there.”

“I don’t _care_ if it’s boring,” Pitch said through gritted teeth. “I told you-”

“Oh let the boy stay, Pitch. He iz not doing any ‘arm!” North beamed, gesturing around the shop. “Besides, this iz toy shop! This iz place for kids to enjoy themselves!”

Jack frowned. “Hey, I’m not really a _kid_ -”

“What I want to know,” Aster interjected, stepping forward, “is what the bloody wanker is doin’ _here_ in the first place!”

“Aster,” North admonished, crossing his arms, “be a little more considerate than that! The boy just wants to look around new place-”

“No! I mean what’s he doing _here?_ On one of _his_ ,” Bunny jabbed a finger at Pitch “‘business’ visits! Why the hell’s he even got a kid to begin with!”

Pitch took a measured breath, trying to keep his temper. “Well as I was trying to say-”

But Jack was determined to foil him at every turn. He had snuck up behind Aster, and gave him a falsely sympathetic pat on the back. “Oh don’t worry – Uh- Rabbit?”

The man jumped nearly a foot in the air, before whirling on the boy. “For the last goddamn time, it’s _Bunny-_ ”

But the boy just barreled on, not bothering to pay the man’s words any heed. “I’m not here to cause any trouble. Come on! It’s like the big guy said, I just want to take a look around!”

“See! I told you!” North boomed, triumphant as he strode across the small space and grasped Jack’s hand forcefully. “Iz nice to meet you, Jack. I am North!”

Pitch tensed, unsure how Jack would respond to the boisterous man’s forwardness, seeing as the boy had never been fond of others touching him. Luckily though, the boy seemed to be taking it in stride, and just laughed incredulously.

“Oh so _you’re_ North,” Jack appraised the man for a moment. “…. Wow. Pitch wasn’t kidding, you really _are_ like a Russian Santa Clause.”  

North once more let out one of his booming laughs. “I like this boy!”

The man looked as if he was going to say more, but was interrupted by a tugging on his sleeve. North startled and stepped to the side to glance down at the short, plump man, who’s blond hair was sticking up in all different directions as if he’d just woken up.

Jack’s eyes widened in surprise at the sight of the small man, as he looked up at the boy and gave a friendly wave.

“Wow,” Jack said, unsure whether to be impressed with the man’s appearance. “Hey, little man. What’s up?”

Pitch repressed an audible groan.

_Great, now the entire Gumdrop Crew is here_ , He cursed inwardly.

“Oh! Sandy!” North cried, beaming (of course he was beaming; Pitch had nearly forgotten that the buffoon almost never stopped smiling). “There you are, we were just going to go get you! Look, we have wonderful news. Pitch has adopted a son-”

I’m _not_ his son-” Jack tried again, clearly exasperated.

Pitch cut in once more, hoping to clear up the whole ordeal. “Jack I told you to let me handle this,” He said, turning to Sandy. “He’s not my son-”

“Then why is he here!” Bunny demanded heatedly.

“What does it matter to you, _Rabbit_?” Pitch sneered.

He had such a migraine coming on, and he had just about had it with the annoying git. It wasn’t hard to remember why the Australian was never his favorite person.

But just why did Jack apparently have the man so wound up?

“ _Bunny_ ,” the man growled. “And you listen here ya gimbee, I know how you work. Trying to prove you’re not a sleazy, manipulative bastard by adopting some kid-”

 “Bunny for za last time-”

“No,” Jack broke in, smirking, calling the attention back to himself. “He’s definitely _still_ a bastard. That’s not hard to prove.”

Pitch turned to glare at the boy. “Jack-”

But Aster barreled through, teeth gritted as he stabbed a finger at Pitch. “-And if you’re trying to pull something with this kid-”

“And what exactly would I be trying to pull,” Pitch droned drily.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe-”

_Riiinng!_

Everyone went still at the sound of the ringing bell.

All four turned their attention to Sandy, who was standing on top of the desk, a small golden bell in hand, and looking extremely annoyed.

They stared at the small man as he jumped down, and strode towards Jack, holding out a hand.

“Uh… Hi? Again?” Jack replied blankly, shaking Sandy’s hand.

The stout man smiled, and gestured between Pitch and Jack, head inclined in question.

Pitch wasn’t sure what Jack thought of the small man. But he assumed the boy could tell at the very least, that the man was a mute. Or he was just polite enough to not ask why he was not speaking, for risk of sounding offensive.

Which would certainly be a novel idea for the boy.

But Jack really did take it all in stride, as his gaze flickered between Pitch and the small man. “Huh? Oh… Um…” He thought for a second, obviously unsure how to best respond to the unasked question. “I’m Jack. I guess I’m kinda staying with Pitch for right now-”

But of course, all good things must come to an end.

“For _right now_ -?!” Bunny broke in again, not missing Jack’s word choice.

Pitch tried to cringe. He had no doubt he’d be hearing about this later.

“Bunny, it iz very rude to interrupt-”

Aster scoffed. “Oh look who’s talking-”

 “Well as _lovely_ as this has been-” Pitch drawled. “Jack, please go _back to the car now_.”

“Oh, come now Pitch,” North said, clapping the man hard on the back, almost causing him to stumble forward. “Let za boy have his fun. I tell you what-”He turned to the door leading into the inner workings of the workshop. “Katherine!” He hollered. “Katherine!”

A young girl with short brown curls bounded into the room, smiling. “Yes?”

“Ah! Katherine! This is Jack,” North shoved the Jack toward the young girl, grinning like a lunatic. “Jack, this is my daughter, Katherine. She can give you tour of shop while we finish up here!”

“Actually,” Pitch began, “I think it may be better to-”

“North! Are you serious?” Aster demanded, cutting him off. “You’re just gunna let some punk kid wonder around the shop to do God knows what-”

North waved him off. “Bah. Bunny, you worry too much.”

“Yeah, Bunny,” Jack mimicked, smirking back at the man. “You worry too much.”

“Why you little-”

“Oh for last time, leave the boy be, and just let him enjoy tour-”

“North, I really do not appreciate you trying to undermine my authority on this-”

“What authority!” Bunny cried scathingly.

 

Sandy caught Jack’s attention once more, tugging on his sleeve. The boy glanced down at the small man, perplexed, only to see him sign ‘they’re crazy’ with his finger by his ear, waggling his eyebrows. Jack let out a bark of laughter.

 

“Oh for the love of-”

“Pitch, I think you are being unfair, here, za boy just-”

“Shouldn’t be with you period!”

 

Jack glanced between Sandy and the other three men, unsure. But Sandy just shooed him out of the room with Katherine, waving goodbye.

Jack let him, smiling and shaking his head. He had to hand it to this little guy, he seemed pretty cool.

Besides, this place really _was_ nuts.

He just wished he could see the look on Pitch’s and that Bunny guy’s faces when they finally figured out that he wasn’t even there anymore.

Sandy closed the door behind them, and Jack and Katherine glanced at each other, unsure what to do for a moment, before they both broke into raucous laughter.

 

“What are you trying to insinuate here.”

“I’m sayin’ you need to-”

_Riiiinnng!_

Bunny and Pitch froze at the sound of the bell, North still trying to force his way between them. They all looked back at Sandy who was standing in front of the door of the inner workshop. The small man swept his hand about the room, then gestured back to the door.

The three men stared at him in puzzlement for a moment, before they all noticed the distinct lack of Jack or Katherine in the room.

North straightened up, giving a delighted clap. “Ah. It seems az if they’ve already gone to take look around.”

Pitch sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“North…” Bunny began, eyes darting around suspiciously. “Are you sure about this?”

 “Oh do not worry, Bunny,” North replied, waving him off. “They’ll be fine.”

Sandy called their attention back to him, and slowly motioned for the men to calm down.

North cleared his throat, and had the decency to look slightly embarrassed. “Yes, Sandy iz right. We talk about this like adults, yah?”

Pitch just crossed his arms dourly, while Bunny rolled his eyes.

“So, Pitch,” North began, turning to the man, now that there was a significant distance between the business tycoon and Aster. “Tell us about this! When did you adopt Jack?”

Pitch felt unease wash over him. He wasn’t sure how to tell the truth without it sounding a bit… strange. But it wasn’t as if he could lie either. Jack would probably gladly tell them the truth, and relish in the chance to watch him squirm.

He glanced around, trying to appear disinterested. “…The day before yesterday.”

Aster practically did a double take. “What?”

North looked appropriately shocked. “Really?” He asked, suddenly seeming a bit less boisterous. “How long ‘ave you known the boy?”

Pitch couldn’t hold back the slight cringe. “…Since this past Monday.”

Even Sandy’s eyes seemed to pop out of his head as he expressed his surprise with a flurry of hand motions.

“What?” North exclaimed in shock, drawing back.

 “You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me!” Aster nearly shrieked. “And you honestly expect us to still believe you have no ulterior motive in adopting the kid-”

“I thank you so very much for your input, Aster,” Pitch snapped, before giving it mock thought. “… Actually. No. I don’t,” he said, sarcasm dripping from his voice. His expression fell serious as he glared at the man. “But I have _enough_ trouble getting Jack to trust me without you _accusing_ me of anything, so-”

Bunny snorted, interrupting him. “Well if the kid doesn’t trust _you_ , maybe he’s smarter than he looks-”

“Friends, friends,” North cut in, stepping between them again. “Let us discuss this _maturely_ , yah?” He paused, waiting to see if either would say anything. But both men remained silent, sulking. North nodded in satisfaction, before turning to Pitch. “Now, why do you not tell us za full story.”

Pitch sighed. “It’s a bit complicated, North, and that is not why I’m really here.”

“Bah!” The man exclaimed, flapping his hands about. “We can discuss business later, now I want to know about _you_ old friend!”

Pitch took a deep breath, trying to draw from his ever tested well of patience. “Fine. If you would like to know, I met the boy while I was in Seattle. He was homeless, and had gotten caught up with a bad sort.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait- he was a _criminal_?” Bunny cried, looking genuinely alarmed.

Pitch tried to keep himself from biting his lip. “…Like I said. It’s a bit complicated. But he had gotten himself in a tough spot, and I chose to help him out. I didn’t feel comfortable just leaving him there so… I tried to talk to him. See if he’d be willing to stay with me for a while.”

A small silence settled between them, as all three men soaked that in.

Sandy was currently remaining still, just listening intently.

Finally, Bunny spoke up. “So let me get this straight: ya just meet a kid, and decide to adopt him, and the state’s totally okay with letting some stranger take custody of him?”

“Bunny has point,” North said, stroking his beard in thought. “Iz very rare occurrence. I certainly have never had easy time with custody process. Iz difficult to go through.”

Pitch smirked a bit at that. “It took a bit of… convincing on my part, and an unlikely bit of help, but I managed to make them see things my way,” He replied, airily.

Aster scoffed. “You mean you _bribed_ them?”

Pitch had to grit his teeth at that. “Despite what you may think, _Rabbit_ -”

“It’s-”

“The transaction was completely _legal_ ,” Pitch retorted, seething.

But Bunny just shot him a disgusted look. “ _Transaction?_ Listen to yourself! You talk about the kid like he’s an object you got from a business deal!”

“Bunny, calm down please,” North said, trying to placate his coworker. “I’m sure Pitch did not mean it that way.” He turned to look at the other man, eyes solemn. “But I am curious… It’s been many years…why now?”

Pitch darted a glance off to the side and shrugged. “Why not now? I just…” He paused, a desperation of sorts welling up inside him. The same he had felt when he had been so helpless in the middle of America’s rainy city. “North, I don’t think you understand what sort of situation that boy was in I just- I just _couldn’t-_ …”

“I understand,” North whispered, his expression softening. “But are you sure that you can handle being parent right now?”

And just like that, Pitch felt himself tense up. He shot North a sharp glare, snapping, “What do you mean am I capable-”

“ _Right now_ ,” North cut in calmly. “You are busy with business. There iz much traveling, much conversing, etc. You are also not used to raising teenager. …Are you sure about this?” he asked, trying to reason with the man.

Pitch only paused for a moment before nodding, the memory of his words to his daughter all those years ago still echoing in his mind. “…Yes. I am.”

North nodded, obviously engrossed in thought.

 “Hey, speaking of ‘right now’,” Bunny started, interrupting the moment of peace, “what did the kid mean when he said he was just staying with you ‘for right now’? What the hell’s that about, huh?”

This time Pitch really did cringe. With someone like North and Bunnymund, this wasn’t going to sit well. “I… may have struck a bit of a deal with the boy to get him to agree to my adopting him.”

“…What kind of deal?” North asked warily.

He grimaced. “I told him that if he wished to leave after a month, I would let him and could have him legally emancipated if he so wished.”

There was a moment of stunned silence in the room, before both men broke out with:

“Are you nuts, ya whacker?!”

“Pitch! You told him this? You cannot just agree to something like dat!”

At the same time.

Pitch crossed his arms.

“And why not?” he demanded. “If the boy truly abhors my presence after a month, he’s free to go. I don’t want to make him feel as if he’s trapped-”

“Probably a bit late for that, mate,” Aster said, giving a short laugh of incredulity.

“Pitch,” North broke in sternly, “when you make commitment to child, you make _commitment_. You cannot just go back on dat!”

“I’m not going back on anything!” Pitch growled in frustration. “I’m merely giving Jack a way out if he would like one.”

“I do not like idea, Pitch...” North rumbled. “The boy already sounds as if he’s decided to leave.”

“I know, just…” Pitch took a deep breath trying to organize his thoughts. He could guess what Jack was planning to do in a month’s time, but that didn’t make it any easier to swallow. “I just need the time to convince him to stay.”

There was a long pause as all the men in the room glanced at each other.

Aster looked to Sandy, trying to prompt him into joining the conversation, but the small, blond haired man just shook his head.

North stroked his beard in thought, before finally saying, “I tell you what. You give yourself the month as well. Try to figure out if taking care of child, iz really good idea for you. And if it iz not… Well, I could always take the boy.”

Pitch turned to North, a bit surprised, and honestly… a little uneasy. “What are you trying to say here…”

“Pitch, you’ve barely known this kid for a week,” Bunny pointed out. “This ‘adoption arrangement’ has about a good a chance of working out, as North’s diet.”

Pitch had to clamp down the anger that threatened to boil up at the Rabbit’s remark.

He couldn’t afford to risk anything, and certainly not over a matter that didn’t even _concern them_.

North shot Bunny an unamused glare, before turning back to Pitch. “I am used to handling many children. It is why I run foster family here. It would not be hard to take on one more, if need be.” When Pitch still didn’t respond, the Russian laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I just don’t want you, or dat boy, to get hurt here Pitch.”

Pitch tensed before knocking North’s hand aside. “Well, I thank you for your concern, but-”

“Sup? What are y’all talking about?” Jack asked as he burst into the room, grinning like a lunatic, Katherine not far behind him.

The room went deadly silent for one beat, before North suddenly bolstered forward.

“Ah! There you two are! Did you enjoy tour, Jack?”

“Yeah, it was really cool!” Jack replied, practically bouncing up and down on his toes. “And all these things were really made and painted by hand?”

Pitch had to resist giving the boy a fond smile. Well, this had certainly been a pain, but he was glad Jack had enjoyed it.

“Yes!” North said. “It iz why I prefer shop. Factories are fine, but nothing beats handcraftsmanship!”

They were all stopped by the ringing of Sandy’s bell once more.

They all turned to see Sandy standing at a storage closet, and pointing at the doorknob, in obvious irritation.

Bunny seemed to instantly realize what he wanted. “Oh, sorry about that Sandy,” he said sheepishly. “Let me grab the keys real quick, they’re with-” Aster froze with his hands digging through his pockets. He looked down, then began frantically searching all of his pockets. “Wait a second- Where’s my bloody wallet!” He shouted, clearly panicked.

Out of his peripheral vision, Pitch noticed Jack sneaking closer to the door.

Pitch let out a long suffering sigh.

_You have got to be kidding me. Now, of all times?_ He groaned inwardly.

“Jack,” Pitch called to the boy, deadpan.

Jack froze with a cringe as all eyes turned to him. The boy turned with a sheepish grin, tossing something at Bunny. “Here ya go.”

Bunny spluttered as he caught his wallet. “Wha- but I- Wh- You stole this from me?” He turned to the others. “You gotta be kidding me, this little kleptomaniac _stole this_ from me?! What the hell!”

“Bunny-”North warned him.

“No!” The Australian cried, striding forwards, as he gestured fanatically. “No, you know what. No. I can’t believe this-!”

Jack rolled his eyes. “Oh come on. I was planning to give it back,” the boy said as he walked around Bunny, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “It was just for fun! Truce?”

“What? No!” The man cried, knocking away the teen’s arm. “No truce. No truce whatsoever.”

Jack gave an overdramatic sigh, as he turned to Aster with a wounded expression. “Oh well, I did try,” he shrugged, smirking. “But you might what to keep better track of your stuff,” Jack finished, the jingling of keys off a key ring accompanying the maniacal grin as he held them up, just out of Aster’s reach. Bunny’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, but Jack just laughed, before turning and tossing the key ring to Sandy. “Here you go little man.”

Sandy caught the keys with a devious smile, looking far too pleased with himself.

Pitch couldn’t help but wonder if the small man may have known about Jack stealing the wallet the entire time, and had merely used the keys as a ploy to gain some amusement. He always had been very good at catching the tiny details…

Aster stood there, stuttering, and obviously lost as he glanced between Sandy and the boy. “Wha- How- How did he- You just- HUH?!”

Jack just smiled, and gave a small wave before dashing for the exit. “Well, better be going, nice meeting you guys!”

Pitch didn’t even get the chance to stop him, or warn him to go straight to the car before he was out the door.

Pitch shook his head in exasperation. “Well this was extremely unproductive,” he sighed, turning to North. “But you and I really do need to discuss-”

“Business, yes, yes,” the white bearded man said, waving off his concerns. “I tell you what. We discuss later. Tonight in fact! We are having party with many partners at town plaza banquet hall. Come! Bring Jack too. We can discuss business there. Best time, yah?”

Pitch pursed his lips, thinking about it for a moment, before conceding. “Very well. And what time does this start?”

“Eight tonight.”

“The Madison banquet center I presume?”

“Yes!” North exclaimed, clearly pleased.

“Then I suppose it will have to wait till’ then. I shall see all three of you there.” But before he walked out, he turned to Katherine. “It was very nice to see you Katherine. It’s been a very long time, but I’m glad to see that you’ve grown up well.”

The young girl (so young, he highly doubted she actually remembered him) beamed up at him. “Thank you, sir.”

Pitch inclined his head towards’ her politely, before walking toward the exit. He stopped at the doorway, and turned to North, Bunny, and Sandy. “Have a nice afternoon gentlemen,” he said with a sharks smile, before walking out, and closing the door behind himself.

 ~*~*~*~

The shop was eerily quiet for a small moment, before Bunny spoke up. “That wanker is bloody creepy, you realize that right?”

“Bunny!”

 ~*~*~*~

Pitch slid into the car next to Jack, glaring at Boris.

“And why, exactly, did you not keep him in the car?” He asked the man through gritted teeth.

Boris turned to him, expression blank. “You told me he was of no concern. I didn’t believe this qualified as the boy making himself one.”

Pitch glowered at the man, pretending he didn’t hear Jack’s snicker.

Boris turned back to the front, unfazed.

The boy leaned back in the seat, shoving his hands into his hoodie pocket.

“So,” the boy asked, “where are we going next?”

Pitch paused, to think a moment, before a devious light came into his eyes.

_Oh sweet, sweet revenge._

“We, are going shopping,” Pitch said slowly, letting that sink in for a moment before adding, “for suitable tuxedos and suits for you.”

Jack jolted upright, eyes wide with horror. “ _What?_ ”

Pitch just sat back with a satisfied smirk as the driver pulled back onto the streets, heading to the uptown shops, reveling in the boy’s obvious dismay.

Oh, this was certainly going to be _fun_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I currently had an interesting plane flight yesterday, and that's why this was a little late. But now I'm on vacation, and checking out colleges, yay!  
> I was kind of satisfied with this chapter. There are parts I'm still not happy with, and wanted to add in that I simply couldn't, but the main scene was fun to write. I really hope I did the characters, and their relationships justice. Especially Bunny. This was originally going to be one part of chapter seven, but then it got longer than I originally believed it would, so I cut it in half. In other news, I have now reached the first milemarker of this story, and will try to begin working on another story on the side. But it may be a while before, or even if, any of you ever see it.  
> Well, this was fun to write, but I'm still unsure about characterization as always. I hope I did alright with it, and I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Thank you to everyone who commented on, bookmarked, left kudos, or just read this story! You guys are awesome!  
> Hopefully I'll have chapter eight posted within the week.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a few things Jack has no interest in. Number One) Attend some stuffy banquet while wearing shoes.  
> But at least he's able to make a friend while he's there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late once again. But in my defense, this is nearly 3,000 words longer than the other chapters.  
> So without further ado, here it is:

“I hate you.”

                “Hmm… Yes, I’m sure you do. Turn, please.”

                “I’m not kidding. I’m seriously considering using all your pointless money to hire a hit man on you.”

                “And I’m positive that would work out very well for you.”

                “…I hate you.”

                “So does that suit. Please go change.”

~*~*~*~

                “Why the hell am I even wearing this?”

                “It’s a vest, Jack.”

                “I know what it is, dumbass. But why am I wearing it? And why is it so damn complicated! Shouldn’t the tying-watchamajigs just tie together?

                “Actually, it looks rather nice on you.”

                “This is horrible.”

                “I’ll tell the salesperson to put it with our selected items.”

                “Torture.”

~*~*~*~

                “I don’t think this is right.”

                “Actually, that’s probably the best I’ve seen.”

                “I don’t think pants are supposed to be this… tight.”

                “That’s how they’re supposed to fit. You’re so used to wearing ill-fitting jeans, I doubt you even know the value of well fitted slacks.”

                “Sure I do. The value ranges between incredibly uncomfortable, to flat out stupid.”

                “Oh, I’m sure you just charm all the saleswomen don’t you?”

~*~*~*~

                “No.”

                “Perfect!”

                “No.”

                “Oh please, Jack, stop being so overdramatic.”

                “Dude, guys who wear shit like this, get beat up on my street.”

                “Well, you’re no longer ‘on your street’ are you, now? We’ll take it.”

                “I hate you.”

                “Are you going to keep saying that?”

                “Loathe.”

                “Somehow, I believe I’ll manage.”

                “Complete contempt.”

                “Well, would you look at that. You have a decent vocabulary. There may be hope for you yet.”

                “I will dance on your _grave_.”

                “Oh! Speaking of dancing, I almost forgot…”

~*~*~*~

                “This is hell. And I’m not doing it.”

                “Of course you are you are. You can’t very well go to a banquet without shoes.”

                “Then I won’t go.”

                “You’re going. North made it very clear he wanted you there. Besides, you can’t really go anywhere decent without shoes. So you might want thank me. I’m saving you a lot of strife later on in life.”

                “You are officially out to kill me.”

                “You know, have you ever considered drama courses? I believe you’d do wonderfully in them.”

                “Burn in hell.”

                “That’s hardly polite.”

                “ _Please_ burn in hell?”

                “Better.”

~*~*~*~

                Pitch considered Jack with an appraising eye as the boy walked out of the room, looking significantly disgruntled.

                He strode over to the boy, adjusting the slim tie around his neck.

                Despite showing him at least ten different times, Jack still hadn’t quite grasped how exactly a tie was to be worn.

                Pitch stepped back, and looked the boy up and down, before giving him a Cheshire grin.

                “Well, what do you know. You actually clean up rather well, Frost.”

                “I feel ridiculous. Especially in these-” Jack stomped his feet on the ground, glowering down at the patent leather dress shoes, “ _clown shoes_.”

                Pitch rolled his eyes.

                Shopping with the boy had been torture for the both of them, but at the very least he had been able to delight in making the boy squirm to a certain degree.

                “Oh please. You’re wearing the same sort of thing I am.”

                “Yeah, how do you think I know _I_ look ridiculous?”

                Pitch pinned him with a stern glare, before sighing. “Just… try and remember to not speak too much, please?”

                Jack raised a brow at that. “What do you mean ‘try not to speak’?” He asked, frowning. “I’ll talk as much as I want.”

                Pitch resisted groaning, and turned his eyes to the heavens. “Yes, but this is also a formal event. I ask this out of no disrespect for your… _personality_ ,” he said drily. “It is merely a matter of etiquette. I haven’t had time to teach you necessary basics in manners when conversing with people such as these. And none of them are going to be sympathetic to a mouthy child, regardless of anything else.”

                “I am _not_ a-”

                “I _don’t_ ,” Pitch cut him off sharply, “want a repeat of this morning’s shenanigans do you understand me? These aren’t the sort of people you want to mess around with, you could get yourself into real trouble.”

                Jack glared at him for a moment before averting his gaze with a huff.

                Pitch’s lips thinned. “ _Jack-_ ”

                “Yeah, yeah,” Jack grumbled. “I get it. Shut and behave, sure. Just like in school.”

                Pitch nodded hesitantly. “For tonight, yes. When interacting with others here, try to keep it as simple as possible.”

                Jack just grimaced, but didn’t protest.

                Pitch really didn’t, despite having more than enough reason to, want to muzzle the boy. But really, what more could he do?

                His hands were a bit tied in the matter.

                North and Bunny where one matter (and even they were accusing him of being a poor paren- _Guardian_ , Pitch reminded himself) but the business associates of this banquet were another matter entirely.

                “Well,” he cleared his throat, readjusting his jacket, “are you ready to go then?”

                Jack just shrugged, still not looking directly at him. “Sure, whatever.”

                Pitch gave a small nod. “Alright then. Let’s go inform Boris of our departure, and be off.”

~*~*~*~

                Jack felt a bit dizzy when the door to the car was opened to reveal the mass amount of people swarming to get inside of the building.

                Seeing this many people in one place had him going tense in seconds. Not to mention all of the formal attire had him feeling immediately out of place.

                But in reality, the only thing that really set him apart from any of them was his hair.

                Despite what he had said before, Pitch had actually done a decent job in his little game of ‘dress up’.

                The simple black suit and slim tie against the bright blue dress shirt really did, well…suit him. At the very least it made him look a bit less scrawny, and more lean than anything else. Really, the only _horrible_ thing were the shoes.

                Not that he’d ever mention that to Pitch of course.

                And while it may have looked decent on him, it didn’t mean that it was comfortable

                Jack’s hand went back to the tie, trying to loosen it a bit.

                “Stop that,” Pitch scolded, waving the boy’s hand away. “You’re only going to make it worse.”

                Jack just huffed in irritation, blowing his bangs out of his face.

                That was one thing he had not allowed Pitch to do: Touch his hair.

                The man’s own had been slicked back even further than usual, and for once didn’t look as if he were wearing a hedgehog as a hat. Though Jack wasn’t sure how the man had literally plastered his hair to his head…

                “Invitation,” the greeter asked blandly, holding out a hand.

                Pitch merely drew up to his full height, replying, “I was invited as a guest by Nicholas North.”

                The man just flipped through his papers listlessly. “What was the name?”

                “Pitch Black.”

                At that, the greeter’s spine suddenly went ramrod straight. “Oh,” the man gulped. “O-Ye-yes, I see your name. Mr.North did leave a note saying that he invited you. R-right this way sir,” the man was practically tripping over his words with his nerves and enthusiasm.

                Jack shot Pitch a confused glance.

                Just what the heck was the guy so uptight about?

                But Pitch just nodded, and saw himself into the banquet hall, Jack not far behind.

                “So,” Jack said, catching up, “Does that happen often, or…?”

                Pitch leveled him with an amused smirk. “More often than you’d think. Actually, to be completely honest, your reaction to who I was was rather… rare.”

                “Huh,” the boy said, wondering what to make of that. “Guess that makes me one of a kind,” he joked, smirking.

                But the corner of Pitch’s mouth just lifted up a slight bit. “I suppose it does,” he replied, before making his way toward a large group of people congregated toward the right side of the room, out of the way of the many patrons that were currently dancing.

                The conversation was a constant buzz behind the loud music played upfront, and Jack couldn’t help but suddenly feel overwhelmed.

                “Uh… Pitch,” the boy called, causing the man to pause. “I think I- I’m just going to go get some punch for right now…”

                Pitch’s brow drew together, but he glanced between Jack and the large crowd before nodding in understanding.

                “That’s fine. Just make sure to be seated when the speaker comes up,” he warned. “I will probably be seated at one of the tables upfront.”

                Jack just nodded, then made a beeline for the punch counter on the opposite end of the banquet hall.

~*~*~*~

                “Pitch!” North cried as soon as he saw the gangly man. “There you are!”

The man bolstered over to the business tycoon, grabbing hold of his hand and shaking it enthusiastically. “Good to see you again!”

“We saw each other just this morning,” Pitch reminded him through gritted teeth.

The man just gave a booming laugh. “Yes, yes. I know. I am just happy that you are here. Come, come, let us greet old friends.”

Pitch forced a practically painful smile on his face as North ushered (dragged) him over to a small group of men, who were already sipping at their Champaign.

“Dear, friends,” North announced as soon as they were upon the group. “I am sure most of you remember, Pitch! He is here to visit us, this evening.”

Many of the men inclined their heads in greeting, while a few came up to him and shook his hand. Most were people he had known many years back, but there were some unfamiliar faces. As well as some familiar faces that were hardly welcoming.

Of course among them were Aster, who was lurking towards the back of the group, glaring at him.

But he purposely ignored them as he greeted many of North’s business associates.

Once introductions had been put aside, Pitch turned back to North.

“Speaking of this evening,” Pitch began, “You never did tell me what this banquet was for.”

“Ah, yes!” the large man cried, letting his palm hit against his forehead. “How could I have forgotten! Mr. Arrow here,” he gestured to a short, stout man with more hair on his face than on his head, “and I helped put together this banquet for Osborn, to celebrate his fifteenth year az bank manager and thank him for his wonderful contributions to our companies.”

“Fifteen years?” Pitch asked breezily. “My, it’s hard to believe Howard is still going so strong after all this time. It certainly is impressive!”

His present company laughed.

“Yes, yes,” North agreed readily. “Is quite impressive!”

There was a small lull in the conversation as many of the patrons took a small sip from their drinks.

“So, gentlemen,” Pitch said leaning against the nearby table. “Tell me, how has business been going?”

~*~*~*~

                “Hey, come on babe. It’s just a dance, that’s all.”

                Jack paused in refilling his drink, his ears catching a small bit of the nearby conversation over the buzzing of the banquet hall. He let his eyes wander over to the small group of teenagers that didn’t look much older than himself, standing by the nearby wall.

                His brow crinkled as he noticed the three boys crowding around a tan skinned girl, who merely rolled her eyes.

                “Again: Thank you, but no thank you. I’d rather not,” the girl said coolly, making to back away.

                But another one of the boys just moved to stand in her path. “Don’t be like that, gorgeous. We don’t mean any harm.”

                “Yeah,” a boy in a dark blue suit stepped closer to her, invading the girl’s personal space, “what’s the big deal? We just want to dance with a beautiful lady.”

                The girl moved away, obviously flustered. “That’s very kind of you, but I already told you _no_. I’d appreciate it, if you would please _respect_ that.”

                “And why not?” The other demanded. “We’re as good as dance partners as any.”

                Jack scowled down at his drink, before side eying the small group again, reaching for another cup.

                The girl gave a weary sigh. “I’m sure you are. I just would really rather not-”

“What?” The first boy cut in. “You think you’re just ‘too good for us’, or something?”

“No, that’s not it,” she replied tiredly. “I just-”

“Little Miss ‘High and Mighty’ can’t come down to talk to the commoners?” The boy in the blue suit sneered.

The girl was growing increasingly agitated. “No! That has nothing to do with it. Could you please just leave me-”

“Then what’s the matter, huh? Give us one good reason why not.”

The girl opened her mouth to retort, but was shocked into silence as someone suddenly slid into position next to her, wrapping an arm around her bare shoulder.

“Oh, there you are!” Jack cried, eyeing the other three boys out of his peripheral vision. “Here is your drink, milady,” he said, handing her a small cup of punch.

All four of them looked up at him, wide eyed.

“Sorry, it took me so long.” Jack pretended to just notice the boys nearly surrounding them. “Who are your friends?” he asked, nonchalant.

Jack shot them a small smirk. He knew he probably shouldn’t have cut in, really, but he couldn’t just bring himself to leave the girl to her own. She probably could have fended them off by herself, but he wasn’t just going to let the surrounding assholes continue to harass her until then.

He just hoped she would play along.

The girl stayed in stunned silence for a moment longer, before slowly closing her mouth, and giving him a tight smile. “Oh, them?” She inquired, glancing back at the boys for a moment before shrugging. “They’re no one.”

Jack held in a relieved sigh. Hopefully this meant that they could both get as _far away_ from these idiots as soon as possible.

“Who the hell is this?” The boy in the dark blue suit growled.

Jack blinked, faking surprise. “Oh, sorry, I haven’t introduced myself yet.” He held out a hand. “I’m Jack her-”

“Boyfriend,” she cut in quickly. Jack shot her a questioning look out of the corner of his eye, but if she noticed, she didn’t show it. She just looped her arm through his as Jack brought it back to his side (since all three boys had merely ignored the gesture). “I _was_ trying to tell you earlier.”

The three teens just continued to stare. Finally, one of them spoke up.

“You’re kidding me, right? You’re going out with _this_ freak?”

Jack felt himself tense at the term, and was about to snap back, but the girl beat him to it.

“Yes. Considering this ‘freak’, is more of a gentleman than all of you combined,” she replied coldly.

Jack glanced down at her in surprise, before looking back up at the boys.

He smirked at their shocked and outraged expressions.

“So,” he said, turning back to her. “Are you ready to go?”

She gave him a small smile, nodding. “Yes,” she said, tugging in him the opposite direction of the boys. She shot them one last parting glance. “It was very nice to meet you. Enjoy the rest of your night,” she called over her shoulder, her voice practically dripping with honey sweet venom.

Jack glanced down at the girl as they walked across the dance floor, toward the opposite wall.

Now that he was finally getting a good look at her, she really was pretty.

                Her dark hair curled gently past her shoulders, and her bangs were streaked with different shades of purple, green, and blue. Her bright, wide eyes actually seemed violet, strangely enough.

                Jack continued to examine her out of his peripheral vision before they stopped near a small cluster of tables.

                The girl glanced over her shoulder again before letting out a relieved sigh, letting go of his arm.

                “They’re gone,” she breathed, relaxing.

                Jack stepped back, and glanced back toward the far wall to see that the three boys had indeed scattered.

                He snorted. “Good riddance.”

                The girl let out a small giggle. “Thank you, so much for your help back there.”

                Jack turned back to her with a smile. “It was no problem. They were just a bunch of bastar- I mean… jerks.”

                “No, they’re definitely bastards.”

                Jack had to laugh a bit at that. “Yeah. You probably could have handled them on your own, but I figured a hand couldn’t hurt.”

                She sighed, looking back to where the boys had been. “Yes, but really, thank you. I would have been stuck with them for at least another hour before they gave up, if you hadn’t come sweeping in.”

                Jack smirked at that. “Well, I’m glad I could help a damsel in need.”

                She brushed her hair back from her face. “So, do I get to be properly introduced to my rescuer?” she asked with a teasing smile.

                Jack gave an exaggerated bow. “The name is Jack Frost, milady,” he said, beaming.

                Honestly, he was happy to have finally found someone to talk to in this place. He had literally been going _out of his mind_ with boredom.

                She looked like she was about to reply, but suddenly she stopped, her eyes zeroing in on something.

                Jack glanced behind him, and seeing nothing, turned back to the girl, cocking his head in confusion.

                “What’s wron-”

                “You’re teeth!” She suddenly squealed.

                Jack reeled back in shock. “Uhmm… My-my what?”

                She suddenly leaned forward, fingers twitching. “You’re teeth are beautiful! They’re so white!” She squealed, obviously trying to get a better look.

                Jack just blinked at her, not sure how to react. “Uh, tha-thank you? I guess?”

                She suddenly stopped short and took a step back, blushing. She shot him a sheepish smile.

                “Sorry about that,” she chuckled, rubbing her arm self-consciously. “I’m just really fascinated with teeth. And yours really are gorgeous.”

                Jack let out a startled laugh.

                ‘You have great teeth’, isn’t something a homeless kid usually expects to hear.

                “Well, I’m glad I could impress you with something at the very least,” he teased. “But you know, you still haven’t told me _your_ name…”

                The girl’s blush deepened. “Oh, Um,” she hesitated for a moment. “It’s… Ana.”

                Jack nodded absentmindedly. “Cool. Is it short for something?”

                This time the girl gave a much more noticeable pause. She bit her bottom lip, glancing down at the floor.

                Jack raised a brow at that. “I mean, you don’t have to tell me or anything-”

                “Oh, no, I-I just…” she gave an embarrassed laugh. “It’s Toothiana.”

                The boy just stared at her blankly for a moment. When she didn’t say anything, and just snuck a side glance at him, Jack finally asked, “Are you… are you kidding?”

                She just shook her head. “Nope.”

                “Wow,” Jack said, looking the girl, Toothiana, up and down. “I’m guessing your parents really had a thing for teeth too?”

                She just shrugged with a small smile. “I wouldn’t really know. I never met them. My father adopted me before I turned three so…”

                “Huh,” he cocked his head to the side, thinking. “You know… I think it fits you. Much better than ‘Ana’ does anyway. It’s different, but it’s pretty.”

                Her face flushed again. “Umm… Thank you. That’s very sweet.”

                But Jack was obviously still thinking about something. Finally, he asked, “Can I call you, Tooth instead?”

                She did a small double take at the question, and stared at the boy, eyes wide.

                She swallowed, before finding her tongue. “I… Sure. That would be fine,” she said. “Actually, that’s what my father calls me, so I don’t have any problem with it. It’s just… People just usually think it’s a bit weird. Especially since I like teeth so much.”

                Jack just shrugged. “Ignore them. I don’t see anything weird about it at all.”

                She gave him a grateful smile, before gesturing to a nearby table.

                Jack nodded, pulling out two seats before sitting down.

                “So,” Jack began once they were seated. “I’m guessing you’re here with your dad?”

                Tooth nodded. “Yeah, he had some business associates to meet with. I usually don’t tag along, so that I can avoid- well… you know.”

                Jack grimaced. “So that happens often?”

                She sighed. “Unfortunately. And it can get especially awful since my father is so well known in these parts. But anyways, tonight, he asked if I would come with him. He’s been wanting me to get a chance to learn about things like this in case I ever want to take over his work.” She gave a helpless shrug, before turning to Jack. “But what about you? Are you here with your parents?”

                “Umm,” Jack trailed off, not really sure how to answer that. “Not exactly. I’m here with… with- Uh,” he finally just laughed shaking his head. “You know, I really don’t know what to call him.”

                Tooth inclined her head in question.

                Jack reached up, scratching the back of his neck. “Well, it’s just that the guy recently adopted me. That’s all. I haven’t really been with him that long.”

                Tooth’s eyes widened. “Oh,” she said softly. “I understand… How long ago was this?”

                Jack shrugged again. “About two days ago?”

                The girl nearly chocked. “I-I’m sorry, when?” she stuttered.

                 “Two days. It was kinda a… spur of the moment thing.”

                Tooth leaned back in her chair, shaking her head in disbelief. “I guess so… And he already has you coming to these sorts of gatherings?”

                Jack rolled his eyes. “Yeah. Apparently I had to come because some long lost buddy of his, that I’m pretty sure he’s trying to rook with some business deal, asked that I come. So…,” he gestured to himself, “here I am. Stuck in the single most boring place on earth.”

                Tooth groaned, leaning her head in her palm. “Tell me about it. Everyone here’s all show.”

Jack snorted. “Glad I’m not the only one that’s noticed how everyone here walks around like their drowning with a ten foot pole up their asses.”

Tooth gave a small sigh, “I can think of about a million more interesting things to be doing.”

                Jack blinked, and suddenly sat up straighter, a small smirk pulling at his lips. That gave him an idea…

 “A million, huh… Would any of these things happen to be in walking distance?”

                Tooth jerked up in surprise, obviously understanding what he was implying. “I- Yes? I mean… I guess, but-”

                “Come on, don’t tell me you don’t want to get out of here,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “Let’s ditch this place. Trust me,” he gestured to all the adults roaming around the banquet hall, “they won’t even notice we’re gone.”

                Tooth glanced around her, worrying her bottom lip. “I don’t know, Jack…”

                “Oh, come on, Tooth,” he groaned. “Let’s just go have fun!”

                Tooth glanced around again, obviously unsure. Finally though, she let her eyes rest back on Jack, and a small smile tugged at her lips.

                “Well… alright. But just for a little while.”

                Jack jumped up, grinning like a maniac. “Great! Let’s go!”

                Tooth just laughed as she let Jack pull her out of the banquet hall, his enthusiasm infectious.

                “You know,” she called to him, careful not to be overheard, “we’re probably going to be in so much trouble for this.”

                Jack just shot her a smirk over his shoulder. “That’s the plan,” he said with a wink.

~*~*~*~

                “Mr. Haddock?” Pitch tapped the large man on the shoulder, causing him to jump slightly before turning around.

                He stared at Pitch for a moment, eyebrows drawn together, before realization crossed his features. “Ah… Pitch Black,” the man drawled. “I was told you may make an appearance. It’s been an awful long time since I’ve last saw you.”

                Pitch nodded respectfully. “It truly has been. Far too long if you ask me. How’s that boy of yours?”

                The man looked slightly surprised. “Ah… He’s fine, thank you. Wanting to study to become an engineer as a matter of fact.”

                “That so? Well then, I suppose he has a very bright future ahead of him.”

                Haddock nodded slowly. “Yeah… How have you been, Black? Ain’t heard much from ya these past years.”

                Pitch simply shrugged. “It’s merely been busy. I haven’t hardly had a day to myself in the past decade or so.”

                The large man gazed at him solemnly. “No, I suppose you haven’t.”

                Pitch had to bite down on his tongue to keep from snapping at the man.

                He knew that look, had seen it on far too many faces for his liking. Many people had looked at him like that ever since Seraphina’s passing. As if pitying him would make everything better, or comfort him somehow.

                He didn’t need anyone to feel sorry for him! They could keep their sympathy, he wanted none of it.

                It was the reason he hadn’t bothered to keep in contact with many of his associates from the time before his business had really taken off. He didn’t need the constant reminder of his loss shoved right back under his nose in the form of regretful faces and pitying eyes.

                But he kept himself in check, and merely moved the topic away from personal matters.

                “I was wondering, how is business going? Working on the board of directors must be keeping you busy, hmm?” Pitch remarked.

                Haddock’s eyes narrowed. “You and I both know that’s not what yer askin’ me.”

                Pitch pursed his lips. “I’m only worried. I think the both of us know that North’s a bit in over his head right now.”

                The larger man just glowered down at him. “That may be, but it ain’t any of yer business, now is it.”

                “I beg to differ,” Pitch replied smoothly, clasping his hands behind his back. “Any sort of business is my business. Besides, I helped North in setting up this company, I’m entitled to know how it’s running.”

                “If you want to know, you can ask North,” Haddock grunted. But his glare didn’t lessen. “But don’t think I don’t know what this is really about, Black. And I ain’t buying in.”

                Pitch merely met his gaze, blankly. “I can assure you I have no idea what you mean by that, Mr.Haddock.”

                Both were interrupted by the host clearing his throat at the microphone.

                All heads turned to look at him as the music was cut short.

                The small, balding man had to lean up to speak directly into the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, our guest speaker will be with us in the next ten minutes. We respectfully ask that you please take your seats for the night, and give him your utmost attention.”

                Pitch held back a groan, and turned back to Haddock with a tight smile. “Well, Mr.Haddock, it was very nice seeing you. I hope we can catch up sometime later?”

                “Don’t bet on it,” the man growled.

                Pitch pretended he hadn’t heard the remark and began heading toward his table, only to stop and toss over his shoulder, “Oh, and Mr.Haddock?”

                “What?” he demanded.

                Pitch just shot him a dark smirk. “Your boy’s seventeen right? Hmm… I wonder how much it will cost to put him through engineering school…”

                He didn’t bother to see the other man’s response, and strode across the banquet hall to the large table set up on the other side.

                Pitch slid into his seat, across from where Sandy and the rabbit already resided.

                Bunnymund just glared at him from across the table, while Sandy tipped his drink in salute.

                Pitch just inclined his head in acknowledgement, before glancing around, searching for a distinctive head of white hair.

                He frowned when he couldn’t manage to catch a glimpse of the boy.

                _I told him not too stray far…_ Pitch thought to himself. _So where could he…_

                He suddenly stopped with a groan.

                Of course. He should have known better by now than to leave the boy to his own devices. It never ended well for him.

                North suddenly plopped down in a nearby chair, still chuckling at something or other, causing Pitch to nearly jump.

                He shot the man a glare, before he continued scanning the crowd.

                “North, have you seen Jack perchance?” He asked, absentmindedly.

                The man shot him a questioning look and shook his head. “No, I’m afraid I ‘ave not.”

                Pitch sighed. “I expected as much.”

                North suddenly glanced about the table, growing concerned as well.

                “Speaking of children,” North added, “where is Tooth?”

                Both Bunny and Sandy looked up at this. “What do you mean ‘where is she’? She couldn’t have gone too far…”

                Pitch’s brows drew together. “I wasn’t aware that you had brought Toothiana with you.”

                “Yes, well now, I can’t seem to spot her either,” North mumbled.

                Pitch cast about as well, still hoping to catch sight of Jack.

                But there was nothing….

                All four had their attention drawn back to the podium as the speaker came up, tapping on the microphone.

                They glanced back, seeing that nearly everyone was seated now.

                Pitch leaned forward. “Where do you believe they could be?”

                North gave a helpless shrug. “I do not know. They could ‘ave gone to wash room, or stepped outside for moment. Hopefully they will be back soon.”

                Pitch leaned back, biting down on his bottom lip.

                “Hopefully...” he said, before thinking to himself, _But if Toothiana’s disappearance has anything to do with Jack’s, then I highly doubt it._

~*~*~*~

                Jack and Tooth practically tumbled out of the building, laughing.

                The doorman and few security guards had caught sight of them, but none had moved to intervene.

                “So,” Jack asked, as the cool, winter night air hit his face, “where do you want to go?”

                “Hmm,” Tooth thought about it for a moment then turned to begin walking down the side walk. “Not sure. There are quite a few things this way. The movie theater, an arcade, the park-”

                Jack immediately perked up. “A park, huh?”

                Tooth shot him a strange look. “Yeah…”

                “A park that is probably abandoned at this time of night?” Jack prodded.

                Tooth just shrugged, looking perplexed. “More than likely. Why?”

                The boy instantly lit up, his eyes bright. “That’s perfect!”

                Tooth raised a brow, obviously resisting a small smile “It is?”

                “Yeah!” Jack cried. “Have you ever been to a park in winter when no one else is around? It’s awesome!”

                “Well, then,” Tooth laughed. “To the park it is.”

                Jack smiled, then paused as he caught something out his peripheral vision.

                “Hey… wait here for a second,” he said, glancing down at his shoes. “I just wanna take care of something real  
quick.”

                He didn’t give Tooth a chance to respond before darting over to the bus stop across the street, where two kids sat.

                The boys, obviously brothers, looked up at him as he came skidding to a halt in front of the bench.

                Now that he had a closer look at the two of them, Jack could tell that they were actually twins, and that they couldn’t be over ten years old.

                “Hey,” he said, sitting down next to them, and unlacing his shoes.

                The two looked at each other, before giving him a questioning look.

                Jack couldn’t stop a smile at the mental image of what he must look like to the boys. A random stranger who just ran over to the bus stop benches to take off his shoes.

                It had to be an interesting sight.

                “Hi…” one of the boys answered hesitantly.

                Jack just gave them a small smile as he slipped off the patent leather shoes, and shoved his socks into his inner coat pocket.

                He set them on the bench next him and let his toes curl against the refreshingly cold pavement, before standing right back up. He stretched out as he stood, letting his back pop and turning back to the kids that sat on the bench, looking incredibly nonplussed.

                He gestured towards the shoes that lay near the two boys. “Why don’t you guys keep those for me, I don’t need them,” he said with a smirk.

                The twins glanced at each other again, clearly thrown, before the other spoke up, “What are we supposed to do with a pair of _shoes_?”

                Jack shrugged. “I dunno, pawn em’? Those are patent leather, fancy stuff. But you can do whatever you want with them,” he said as he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to walk away. “Oh, but if you do decide to sell them,” he tossed over his shoulder, “don’t take any less than a hundred, okay?”

                He had just enough time to glimpse the two twins’ jaws drop.

                He grinned as he made his way back to Tooth, who looked caught between laughing and utter confusion.

                “Umm, what exactly was that all about?” She asked, clearly amused.

                “I hate having to wear shoes,” Jack admitted. “That was definitely not my idea. So I figured, why not get rid of them, and make some kid happy too?”

                Honestly, he was just happy to have those things off and nowhere near him. He had forgotten how awful wearing shoes could be.

                He hadn’t bothered with it since he outgrew his last pair back when he was fourteen, and he hadn’t missed them.

                He glanced back over his shoulder to see the dark skinned twins waving back at him, practically beaming.

                He gave them a quick salute before turning his attention back to Tooth.

                “So,” he began, “how far away is this park?”

                Tooth thought for a moment as they rounded the bend. “I don’t know, about… two more blocks? It’s more or less a straight shot from here.”

                _Then it looks like it’s time for a new pace,_ Jack thought mischievously.

                Jack looked back at her, giving her a devious smile. “Only two blocks, huh… Race you!”

                “What?”

                And with that, he took off like a bullet down the sidewalk.

                Tooth was stunned for mere seconds before she took off after him, face flushed as she held tightly to the hem of her skirt.

                “Wait a second,” she called after him. “That’s not fair! I’m in a _dress_!”

                The boy just laughed, shouting, “Sure it is!”

                Jack and Tooth dashed down the sidewalk, Tooth on the boy’s heels.

               

                Tooth’s hand touched the short wrought iron fence mere moments before Jack’s did.

                “Aha!” She cried triumphantly. “I win!”

                Jack faked a groan as he slumped against the fence. “That’s not fair! You knew the way!”

                Tooth just grinned back at him. “Sure it is,” she parroted his words from just minutes before.

                Jack childishly stuck his tongue out at the girl. “I want a do over.”

                “Nope!” she said, dashing into the park itself.

                “Hey!” Jack exclaimed, indignant.

                He laughed as he followed her into the park, grabbing a fistful of snow and pelting her with it.

                She gave out a small shriek at the unexpected cold before turning on him.

                “Well, if that’s how it’s going to be…” she said, letting the challenge hang in the air.

                Jack just laughed as she threw loosely packed snow his way.

                “You call that a snow ball?” He taunted, running past her, and deeper into the park.

                “Why you,” she growled playfully, before following after him.

                They chased each other through the park, darting around trees and benches as they occasionally tossed snow at one another, not bothering to turn it into a true snowball fight.

                They laughed as they finally came to a stop at a bench sitting in front of a frozen pond.

                “Alright,” Tooth panted as she collapsed onto the bench. “How about we call it a draw?”

                Jack snorted as he sat down next to her. “What do you mean a ‘draw’? I totally won that one.”

                Tooth just rolled her eyes at the boy, before relaxing, letting herself take in the scenery.

                A small serene smile crossed her features as she glanced around. “You know, I’ve never been here at night… or when it hasn’t been, you know, crowed and full of noisy people. It’s actually really beautiful.”

                Jack let his head fall back. “It sure is. Back… back home I used to love the park at night. It was so peaceful. I could almost convince myself I was far away from the hustle and bustle of the city… It almost felt like it was my own little world. That nothing else existed.”

                Tooth turned to him, head inclined. “Is that why you wanted to come here?”

                Jack let his drift shut. “…Yeah. Also part of the reason I needed to get out of that place.”

                Tooth’s brow crinkled. “What do you mean?”

                The boy’s eyes opened slowly as he gave a small sigh. “Nothing just… Being surrounded by that many people, especially in a small space like that. It just… makes me uneasy.”

                Tooth looked at him curiously. “You mean you’re claustrophobic?”

                Jack thought about it for a moment, then turned to face the girl. “Maybe? Something like that I guess…”

                She gave him a small sympathetic smile. “It’s okay, you know. There’s nothing wrong with that,” she said, laying a hand on his arm.

                Jack jerked a bit, gazing down at it, before nodding slowly and drawing his arm away gently.

                He was grateful that she could understand that much, and he was enjoying getting to spend time with someone his age (since it happened so rarely nowadays), but he still knew very little about the girl. For all he knew she could have actually been some sort of complete psychopath.

                He had to hold back a snort at that. Then again, she was probably thinking the same exact thing about him right now.

                Tooth blinked at him owlishly, before just shaking her head. She took out her phone from her side purse, checking the time.

                She bit her lip, glancing around. “We should probably head back though. They’ll notice we’re gone before long-”

                But Jack cut her off with a groan, “Oh come on, Tooth. Live a little, would ya! We’re having fun!”

                Tooth glanced down at her phone. “Well, yes, but-”

                “Do you really want to go back?” Jack asked her bluntly. “Because if you do, then I won’t ask you to stay.”

                She continued to worry her bottom lip for a moment. “…Not really, no. But I do have a responsibility to-”

                “Let me ask you something,” Jack intervened again, already knowing where this was heading, “Do you have a lot of responsibilities in your daily life?”

                Tooth looked thrown for a moment, but answered uncertainly, “Yes…? I mean, I guess so.”

                Jack just nodded sagely. “And I’m guessing you tend to all of them, everyday?”

                “Well, I kind of have to. I have all my younger siblings to look after, my school work, and-”

                “So why,” Jack interjected, “don’t you just let yourself cut loose, and have some fun just this one night.”

                Tooth raked her fingers through her hair nervously. “I don’t know, Jack.”

                The boy just smiled at her. “One night,” he said. “That’s all I’m saying. For one night, _forget_ any responsibilities, okay?”

                Tooth glanced around, unsure.

                But slowly, she let a smile cross her face, and she nodded. “Okay,” she agreed.

                “Great!” The boy crowed as he jumped to his feet. “Then come on!”

                He pulled Tooth up with him, grinning from ear to ear. He took her phone and set it next to her purse on the bench.

“ _That_ can stay here,” he said firmly. “And _we_ are going to go skating.”

                Tooth inclined her head in question. “Skating? But… we don’t have any skates…”

                Jack just laughed. “That’s cuz’ we don’t need any!” he replied, pulling her towards the small frozen pond.

                “Huh?”

                He just shot her a grin. “Good thing you wore sandals, right?”

                Tooth just blinked at him in numb shock as he pulled her along.

                They stopped at the edge of the pond, and Tooth stopped as Jack let go of her, practically dancing out onto the ice.

                “Jack, be careful,” she called to him, suddenly worried.

                “Come on!” He said, motioning for her to follow him. “It’s safe, I promise. The water wouldn’t even be deep here.”

                Tooth glanced around again, hesitant.

                But as she watched Jack as he spun around the ice, laughing, she couldn’t help but smile, and step onto the glassy, frosted surface as well.

~*~*~*~

                “They’re still not back yet,” Pitch muttered to North as the speaker upfront continued to drone on and on about some honor of the community.

                The Russian man nodded grimly. “Yes, I have noticed. It is cause for concern… Tooth iz not type to wander off without telling me.”

                “Well Jack certainly is,” Pitch grumbled. “But I have no way of contacting him yet. And there’s no telling where he could have gone off to.”

                Sandy gave a slight rap on the table to catch their attention, before signing something to Aster.

                Bunny grimaced, his nose twitching, “Sandy has a point. They could have gone off together. Some of the kids do that occasionally, right?” he asked, turning to North.

                North thought for a moment, scratching at his beard. “Yes the children do sometimes get bored and leave party to find entertainment close by. It iz possible, but…” He glanced around the banquet hall. “I did not see many children missing… It iz hard to tell.”

                Pitch pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the oncoming migraine. “North, try calling Toothiana. Maybe she merely forgot to inform you that she had left.”

                North nodded, pulling out a surprisingly sleek iPhone. He ducked down a bit as he hit the call button, trying not to interrupt the horrendously dull speaker.

~*~*~*~

                Both Jack and Tooth were so caught up in twirling, and chasing each other around the ice, that neither noticed Tooth’s phone lighting up and vibrating against the wooden park bench.

                They just laughed as they continually tried, and in Tooth’s case failed, to keep from falling.

~*~*~*~

                North frowned and shook his head gravely as Tooth failed to answer a second time.

                “She iz not responding,” he informed them lowly.

                Pitch leaned back, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Then it looks like we’ll have to look for them the old fashioned way.”

                But North just shook his head, grinning a bit. “Actually, I may know better way…”

                He held out his phone for Pitch to see.

                Pitch glanced down at the device to see a tracker app open.

                He raised a brow. “You can track her phone with this?”

                North nodded. “It iz good safety precaution, no?”

                He didn’t give Pitch the chance to respond before barreling on. “We should find Tooth, and perhaps Jack, with this. Would you suggest leaving now, or wait?”

                Pitch grimaced. “It’d be better to just go now. If Jack is there as well, who knows what sort of trouble they could get themselves into in the next hour.

                North nodded solemnly before turning to Aster and Sandy. “Bunny, can you drive Sandy tonight?”

                Bunnymund frowned. “I can, but North, wouldn’t it be a better idea for all of us to-”

                “No,” North cut him off, shaking his head. “We do not want more commotion than necessary. Besides, hopefully this will not be problem.”

                Bunny paused, obviously not happy with the situation, but eventually nodded. “Whatever, mate.”

                Sandy just gave them a thumbs up and encouraging nod.

                North smiled at them. “Thank you, friends,” he said, then turned to Pitch. “Let us go see if we cannot find za hooligans.”

                Pitch just stood up from his chair, and tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible as he made his way out of the banquet hall, North following him slightly… less inconspicuously.

                When they finally made it to the foyer, Pitch immediately saw Boris and stalked over to him.

                “Boris, have you perchance seen Jack or Toothiana come this way?” he demanded.

                Boris just raised a brow at him. “I think I may have seen him pass through here with a girl not too long ago. Why?”

                Pitch just sighed. “I need you to call the driver then. I’m going to have to cut this banquet a bit short.”

                Boris nodded, his lips twitching. Pitch had to resist growling as the man held back obvious amusement.

                “Will do, sir.”

                Pitch groaned, before turning back to North who was at the front desk, more than likely asking for a bell-hop to retrieve his car.

                North turned to him just as he made it to his side.

                The man nodded. “My car is being brought around front now; it should not be too long of wait.”

                “As is mine,” Pitch replied dully.

                He was honestly just tired at this point. He didn’t regret his decision in Seattle, not in the least. But it _was_ turning out to be a lot more trying than he had expected.

                North interrupted his thoughts though, asking, “Will you be following me?”

                “Yes,” Pitch said through pursed lips. “That would probably be for the best, seeing as you are the one that knows their location.”

                Either North completely missed the bite in his tone, or had simply ignored it, for the man just nodded again.

                He paused, clearly thinking of something, before turning to face Pitch directly. “While I do not agree with Bunny, he makes good point. You know very little about Jack. I hope you did not expect this to be easy,” he said, placing his large hand on Pitch’s thin shoulder.

                But the man just brushed him off, baring his teeth. “I’m _aware_ , thank you. And I’m _also_ aware that this is not going to be some sort of walk in the park. I would hope you could give me more credit than that.”

                North held up his hands in surrender. “I am not discrediting you, my friend. I am merely telling you. I do not know if you fully understand the implications of adopting someone Jack’s age-”

                “North,” Pitch cut him off sharply. “I appreciate your help right now, but I’m going to have to politely inquire that you please, _stop speaking_ ,” he ground out.

                The large man stopped short, and his face fell, his eyes obviously tired.

                “For now, I will respect that wish, Pitch. For now.”

~*~*~*~

                Jack could hold back his laughter as Tooth slipped again, landing flat on her backside.

                “It’s not funny!” the girl cried as she tugged at her dress.

                Jack just bit his lip to try to hold back his snickers as he went to help her up. “You’re right, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

                She just shot him a dry glare as she rose to her feat unsteadily. “You know, this really isn’t the sort of thing to be doing in a _dress_.”

                Jack just gave an impish smile, and held up his hand. “Hey, don’t worry. I promise that if anything happens, I won’t look.”

                “Uh-huh,” she deadpanned.

                “I wouldn’t!” Jack pressed. “Give me some credit here. I have more respect for women than that.”

                Tooth just laughed. “Well, that is very comforting to know,” she said, smirking deviously.

                Jack eyed her suspiciously. They stood at a playful standoff for only a moment before he snorted and turned to slide across the ice once more-

                Only to have Tooth grab onto his arm at the exact same moment, throwing him off balance.

                “Wo-Whoa!” he cried as he fell flat.

                Tooth giggled from behind him as he struggled to rise back up.

                He shot a glare at her over his shoulder, before an idea came to mind, causing his eyes to light up with mischief. In one fatal swoop he knocked Tooth’s feet out from under her, causing her to once again slip and fall.

                “Ha!” He crowed, grinning.

                He and Tooth met eye to eye, leveling each other with a glare.

                One that only lasted about two seconds before they both burst out laughing, and began trying to get up while helping each other.

                “Sorry,” Jack gasped through his laughter, “I just couldn’t resist.”

                Tooth was still giggling as well. “Neither could I.”

                The smiled at one another.

                Jack was just glad that the entire night hadn’t been wasted at some pointless party. He had even found someone cool to hang out with!

                Maybe he could get along fine in this town.

                He and Tooth were still grinning like idiots, when they both tried to take off across the ice again.

                Jack turned to her as they skidded to a halt. “Hey, do you-”

                “Just what the _hell_ do you believe you’re _doing?_ ” A voice suddenly thundered shattering the peaceful atmosphere.

                Tooth tensed beside him and Jack groaned as he turned around, recognizing the voice.

                Stomping toward him was Pitch, his hair no longer fully in place, and looking more than a little furious.

                But surprisingly enough, not far behind him was North.

                “Jack,” Tooth whispered. “Why is he-?”

                Tooth didn’t get the chance to finish her question though before North came up behind Pitch. “Tooth! This is where you have been?” The large man inquired.

                Tooth’s face immediately flushed, and she glanced around, clearly unsure what to do.

                Jack’s jaw practically dropped. “Wait,” he said, turning to Tooth. “ _North_ is your _father_?”

                Tooth just gave him a sheepish smile. “Yeah,” she said, then frowned. “But wait, isn’t that Pitch Black-”

                “Yeah,” Jack deadpanned.

                Tooth blinked. “Wait he’s your fathe-”

                “He is _not,_ ” Jack said firmly, “my father. But yeah. We’re stuck with each other for right now.”

                Tooth just shook her head, at a loss. “This is kind of…”

                “Weird?” Jack offered. “Yeah,” he said, pausing for a second. “But hey, I _was_ wondering, if you’re adopting, and you’re North’s daughter, does that mean the rest of his kids are adopted as well?”

                “Umm, yes?” Tooth replied.

                Jack sighed. “Okay, good. Because no offense, but it’d be a little weird if he had a twelve year old at that age.”

                Tooth just stared at him for a moment, before bursting out laughing.

                But their mirth didn’t last for long.

                “Jack!” Pitch snarled as he reached the pond’s edge. “Get off of there this instant.”

                Jack just rolled his eyes and scoffed, “Yes, _Mother_.”

                “Tooth,” North called. “You too, come on. It iz time to be leaving.”

                The two teens shared a look, before shrugging helplessly. They trudged back over to their caretakers.

                “Why did you not call to tell me where you were, Tooth?” North asked as they came closer.

                The girl gave a sheepish shrug. “Sorry, I just forgot to.”

                The large man only shook his head in exasperation as they got closer.

                But Jack never really found out what was exchanged between them next, because as soon as his feet touched solid ground, Pitch took hold of his arm, dragging him back toward the park entrance.

                “Just what the _hell_ ,” the man hissed, “did you think you were doing?”

                Jack didn’t bother to respond.

                Pitch stopped, and spun to face the boy. “Do you have any idea what this looks like?” he demanded. “Do you have even the slightest _clue_? You not only had me worried, which is becoming far too normal for my liking, but you dragged North’s daughter into it as well!”

                Jack just shrugged. “I’m sorry, alright,” he said, now a bit uncomfortable. “I just… I couldn’t stay in there any longer. I wanted to get out, and so did she. I don’t know what the big deal is.”

                “Jack you can’t just-” Pitch stopped short of whatever he was going to say next, and just stared down at the boy. Finally, the man sighed.

                “I think you and I need to have a very long conversation about some things.”

                “Oh _joy,_ ” Jack replied drily, as Pitch continued to drag him back towards the car.

                He turned back to see Tooth and North not far behind, the man’s large hand steering the girl forward.

                He mouthed to the girl, _Save me_.

                Tooth just gave a helpless shrug, and waved goodbye with a small smile before Jack was pulled out of the park and pushed into Pitch’s car.

~*~*~*~

                “Tooth,” North began, before letting her into the car. “I do not like that you went with boy you did not know somewhere. Especially without telling me. You are lucky it iz Jack. But he could have been dangerous.”

                Tooth looked down at the ground. “I’m sorry, sir. But Jack did help me out back at the party, and seemed very nice. And he was a perfect gentlemen… well for the most part.”

                North raised a brow at that, and Tooth quickly backtracked, “No, no. I just meant… He’s a bit fond of pranks is all.”

                At that the mirth returned to North’s eyes. “Yes, he does seem very impish, no?”

                Tooth just laughed and hugged her father.

                The man gave her a gentle squeeze in return, and smiled down at her.

                “I am glad you got to meet Jack, but remember to be more careful from now on, yes?”

                Tooth smiled, nodding. “I will, Papa.”

~*~*~*~

                The car ride was tense and silent, and it was honestly driving Jack crazy.

                But he also didn’t want to risk being the one to break the silence.

                Eventually though, Pitch asked, “What happened to your shoes?”

                “Uh…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was me attempting something flirty/ possibly romantic. Yeah... I'm sorry. I tried?  
> No but really, I have no clue how to write any sort of romantic stuff, even though I definitely read enough of it. But not to worry, this is merely a side relationship/friendship that probably won't go much farther than it did in the movies. I guess I don't hate this chapter, but I'm not sure I like it either. But either way, this is as satisfied as I'm probably going to get with it, so I hope y'all enjoyed it. I hope I kept Tooth, as well as everyone else, in character here. That was probably the hardest part for me. And I hope everything seemed realistic enough.  
> OH! And look! Claude and Caleb made a quick appearance. Yup.  
> Anyways, Hopefully I will have chapter eight posted before the week is up. We are now about to venture into the uncharted waters of the plot line (meaning the important relationship building stuff that aren't super major plot points), so I'm hoping that I won't get caught up in choppy waves.  
> As always, thank you to all of you who have left kudos, comments, bookmarked, or just read this story. Your support is amazing!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the day, everything is that much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this is a whole week late, but I literally had no time this past week, since I was at a week long tournament.   
> Anyways, in this chapter is actually the scene that was inspired by Pretty Woman and inspired me to actually write this story to begin with. And I think you'll be able to tell which scene if you've ever seen the movie.   
> I just finished writing this, and it's super late, so I'm posting it after just a skim instead of a thorough read through. I hope there are no horrible mistakes, but I'll probably edit more as I find them later.   
> Oh, and I also attempted angst. I apologize in advance.

Pitch yawned as he closed his bedroom door behind him.

It was already halfway through the morning. Typically, he would be astounded that he had slept so late, but he had not arrived back at the hotel until well past twilight last night, and he had not had a restful sleep for a good while.

So he wasn’t exactly shocked to find Jack already up and sitting on the couch (though that may not mean much, since Pitch was willing to bet he had slept there once again), flipping through channels on the large television.

Pitch sighed. He still needed to talk with the boy, since he hadn’t gotten around to it last night, but he certainly wasn’t looking forward to it.

And, judging from the way Jack had yet to look at him, he was willing to bet the boy felt the same way. But he couldn’t just allow the past days occurrences to continue.

Jack needed to understand something before either of them could even _attempt_ to continue with their current arrangement.

 “We need to talk,” Pitch said as he walked up to the boy, standing next to him.

Jack continued to flip through channels, not bothering to look at him. “About what?” he asked, trying to appear absentminded. But Pitch could see the way the boy tensed at the words.

“I think you know, what about,” Pitch growled, snatching the remote away from the boy, and turning off the television.

Jack gave a of indignation as Pitch just crossed his arms after setting the remote out of reach on the coffee table. The boy huffed petulantly before glancing away.

 Pitch suppressed another sigh. “Jack, I don’t want to have to leave you in the apartment all day, and honestly I doubt it would solve the problem even if I did, but you _can’t_ keep running off wherever you please,” he said, gesturing to the boy helplessly.

Jack bristled. “Sure I can,” the boy challenged. “I’ve done it for nearly three years now; don’t see why it’s any different _now_?”

“Because now,” Pitch snapped, “you’re not on your own. Part of taking someone in is looking out for them. And I can’t do that if you won’t _listen_ to me, and just wander away whenever you feel like it.”

Jack just snorted.

“Jack…” Pitch paused, searching for the right words. Well he had been right… this certainly wasn’t easy. “I’m trying to keep you _safe_. If you want to go off somewhere, you need to ask me so that I know where you are and how to get a hold of you.”

“I don’t need your permission,” the boy nearly snarled.

“Why are you _insistent_ upon being so damn _stubborn_ over this!” Pitch cried, slamming his hand down on the nearby lamp table, causing its occupants to rattle dangerously.

Jack jumped, flinching back from Pitch and drawing further into the cushions of the couch, eyes wide and breathe shallow.

Pitch just stared at the boy, guilt welling inside of him.

He… he hadn’t meant to give the boy such a scare. He didn’t know why _that_ of all things would have been cause for such a powerful reaction.

It took a moment for Jack’s breathing to even out once again, recovering before Pitch could think of a way to phrase an appropriate apology.

“Why do you even care?” he asked, turning away from the man. “What’s it matter to you where I go?” he grumbled, practically sulking.

Pitch frowned. “Because, Jack. I’m trying to look out for you-”

The boy cut him off with a scoff. “You mean yourself?”

Pitch’s brow crinkled in annoyance. “Yes,” he retorted, “because you are so incredibly _lovely_ to be around. Constantly contradicting me, generally acting as an upstart, never listening. Oh, yes. You’re right. If I were mainly looking out for myself, I _would_ go out of my way to find you and ensure your safety every time you disappear to give me a few moments of relief.”

“Wow. It’s only been three days, and you already despise me that much?” Jack asked, putting a hand over his heart in mock shock. “I think that may be a new personal best.”

Pitch glared down at the boy. “Jack…” he paused, not sure how to go on. Well, he supposed if this was going to have any effect he was going to just have to lay everything out on the table. “I’m not doing any of this to try and make your life more difficult. I’m trying…” He let out a deep breath, glancing down at the floor. How was he even supposed to say something like this? He looked back up at the boy. “I’m trying to show you that things can be _different_. That you don’t have to just wander about aimlessly on your own anymore. You have somewhere you can go to now. What you had before… it doesn’t have to be like that anymore.”

“And what if I _wanted_ it to still be like that, huh?” Jack snapped. “What if I _liked_ being on my own? Did you ever even consider _that_?”

“As much as you might try to tell yourself that, I think we both know that’s not the reason,” Pitch replied gravely. “You don’t want to be on your own any more than anyone else does. You’re just too afraid to trust someone, for fear of being hurt or let down.”

“Don’t pretend like you know me, okay!” The boy growled, jumping to his feet. “A few conversations to squeeze a meal or two out of you, those don’t mean anything! All of this?” He gestured at the room around them. “It _doesn’t mean a thing_.”

“Then why did you accept my offer?” Pitch demanded.

Jack gave a harsh laugh. “Do you think, that I honestly would have said yes if I believed you had even the slightest chance _in hell_ of making it work out? It was a _joke_ to me! I don’t want to be here. And trust me when I tell you, that as soon as this ‘month’ bullshit is up, I’m out of here!”

Pitch paused.

He had known. Of course he had known. He knew from the very beginning that if he made this work, Jack would probably want to leave as soon as he could.

But that didn’t make it hurt any less to have the proof thrown in his face.

“…Well,” he finally replied quietly, “then I guess I have the month to change your mind.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” the boy said, turning away from him once again.

They both stood that way, Jack resolutely not looking at him, and Pitch unsure what to say, for a long moment.

Finally, Pitch caved.

He supposed he might as well start preparing for the day.

“… I have another meeting with North today, at his shop,” Pitch told the boy. “You’re coming.”

“Oh, so now you really _do_ want me there?” Jack retorted snidely.

“You’re coming so you can apologize for last night, not so you can just tag along,” Pitch answered sharply. “Nor am I taking an eye off you until I know I can trust you to not wander off without a word.”

“Whatever,” the boy grumbled.

Pitch held back a groan, and couldn’t help but feel the need but to… leave the conversation on a different note.

He turned back to the boy, eyes solemn. “Despite what you say… I know that everything you told me back in Seattle… all of that did mean something,” Pitch said, his voice nearly a whisper, but the conviction in it was unwavering. “And no matter what you want to believe… you don’t truly want to be on your own again. Please try to remember that?”

And as he walked away, heading straight for the coffee maker, he still managed to hear the boy’s bitter, muttered response after he had left.

“…Don’t get your hopes up.”

~*~*~*~

                “Pitch!” North cried as the lanky man stepped into the vast front room of the shop, Jack not far behind.

                The white haired boy veered off as soon as they entered the shop, looking at some of the toys placed on the shelving rack. His eyes skimmed them, but he was barely taking any of it in.

                He wasn’t really sure what to think of Pitch’s little ‘heart to heart’ with him this morning. But one thing was for sure: He really didn’t want to be here right now.

                Sure, North was fine and everything, and the shop was cool, but this wasn’t the place he needed to be to clear his head. What he needed was a quiet place out in the snow. Preferably somewhere as far away from Pitch Black as possible.

                He had to hold back a laugh though as Pitch dodged one of North’s attempted hugs like an old pro.

                “Hello, North,” the man said tiredly. “I was hoping that perhaps you and I could sit down for a real chat today, hmm?”

                Jack glanced at them from the corner of his eye, but continued down the row of toys.

                The large man chuckled. “Yes, yes. Sound good. Time for business, eh?”

                Pitch nodded slowly. “Yes. But first,” the man paused, glancing behind his shoulder with a frown. He motioned Jack over. “I believe someone owes you an apology.”

                Jack groaned as he begrudgingly trudged back towards the front desk where North stood.

                North lit up, noticing him for the first time. “Jack! I did not see you come in. Is good to see you!”

                Jack just gave a half-hearted wave, the man’s enthusiasm not quite rubbing off on him today.

                North turned back to Pitch, questioning, “Not what is this about apology?”

                Pitch glowered down at the boy, “Jack,” he prompted, not bothering to answer the large man.

                The boy sighed before looking up at the ceiling listlessly. “I’m sorry that your party was so boring that I couldn’t stand being near another person with a stick up their asses for another two seconds, and that it was so bad even your own daughter wanted to leave, and that we both went to go have fun instead of slowly die of boredom,” he prattled off.  

                Pitch gave a small groan of distress, scrubbing a hand down his face. “ _Jack_ -”

                But he was cut off by North’s booming laugh.

                The large man waved Pitch’s concern away. “I understand, I understand. Banquets, very boring, everyone is too uptight. No fun at all. I do not blame you for leaving. Next time though, just make sure my daughter tells me, yah? Don’t want this old man worrying so much,” he joked, stroking his beard.

                Jack actually grinned at that.

                Okay, so maybe North’s personality was still a little infectious.

                Pitch just sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Yes, well,” the man began, “now that that’s out of the way-”

                “Oi!” A voice broke in, as the door to the back of the workshop slammed open. “North you gotta be kiddin’ me with this!” Bunny growled as he stomped into the shop, covered in paint splatters.

                “Bunny,” North scowled, “where you ease dropping?”

                The man crossed his arms, glaring down at Jack. “Hard not to, you aren’t exactly quiet. But are you seriously just goin’ to let this bloke off the hook like that? North,” he turned to the man, jabbing a finger in Jack’s direction, “he ran off _with your daughter_. Who knows what the hell they were gettin’ up to!”

                “You know, Bunny,” Jack cut in, smothering a laugh, “for the record, I just wanted to say: that’s a _really_ good look for you.”

                Aster turned to the boy, a sneer curling his lips, but North beat him to the punch.

                “Aster, what do you think they would ‘ave gotten up to, eh?” North said, dismissing the Australian’s concerns.

                “I don’t know,” the man cried. “They’re teenagers, for God’s sake North. They coulda been doin’ who knows what. And from what I gather, this one’s track record ain’t that great! He coulda been takin’ advantage of Ana back there. They were in an abandoned park. It doesn’t get a lot shadier than that!”

                “Excuse me,” Pitch interrupted, indignant, “but just what exactly are you accusing him of here?”

                “Don’t give me that Black,” Aster retorted. “You know what this looked like! The kid’s been runnin’ around with criminals until now, and you think he can be trusted?”

                Jack felt himself tense up at the accusation.

                Just what the hell had Pitch been telling these people about him? That he was some delinquent he rescued off the street to make him ‘change his ways’? Was _that_ the story he was selling these clowns?

                But he didn’t even get the chance to defend himself before Bunny just barreled on. “He coulda been doin’ anything back there. For all we know the kid’s got drugs or guns hidden up his sleeves there!”

                “Now that is _enough!_ ” Pitch roared. “It is one thing to accuse someone of being rude and inconsiderate; it’s another _entirely_ to make them out to be some _criminal!_ As if Jack would legitimately aim to _hurt_ someone, much less someone like Toothiana. And you have _no right_ -”

                “ _I_ have no right?” Bunny shouted, incredulous. “What the bloody hell do you think give you-”

                “ _ENOUGH!_ ” North bellowed over the two men. The room instantly fell silent, all eyes on the large Russian. “That is enough,” North said, his voice now back to its normal booming volume. “You are both adults, act like it.”

                Both Bunny and Pitch glanced away, seething. But neither spoke up.

                North glanced between the both of them, then nodded. “Now,” he began, turning to Bunny, “Aster, you are being unfair to za boy. Tooth told me he was perfect gentleman and they merely had innocent fun. Dat is all.”

                Jack couldn’t help but think that if Aster actually was a rabbit, his ear would be flat against his skull at the moment as the man turned his gaze to the floor, caught between looking annoyed and shame faced.

                North nodded, before turning to Pitch. “And Pitch,” the man looked up at North then, brow crinkled in confusion, “it is good of you to defend Jack. _But_ you must not lose your temper so quickly my friend. Losing hold on one’s anger has never led to a victory, yah?”

                Pitch just scoffed, rolling his eyes, but didn’t bother to reply.

                North just sighed, “Is too bad Sandy is not here, he is better with this sort of thing.”

                Jack glanced up at that, still holding back a bit of an amused smirk (hey, it wasn’t like the argument was something he enjoyed, but it wasn’t every day you heard grown ass adults get chastised like misbehaving kindergarteners). “Where is Sandy anyway?” he asked.

                He had actually really liked that little dude. He seemed pretty chill.

                North just gave him a small smile. “He is not here today. He only works at shop part time. The other time he devotes to his own craft.”

                Jack cocked his head to the side. “What’s that?”

                North motioned in a vague direction. “He had blown glass shop only a few blocks up. You should visit, he has many amazing creations.”

                Jack’s eyes widened in wonder. “Cool,” he said grinning.

                Aster snorted, bringing the boy’s attention back to the reality at hand.

                The kid glared at the Australian, but there didn’t seem to be anything more Bunny had to say to him.

                Pitch just sighed, clearly exasperated, before turning his attention back to North.

                “Now that all of _that_ is out of the way, then may we _please_ get down to the real reason behind this visit?” He inquired drily.

                North nodded, seemingly coming back to reality as well. “Yes, yes. We shall discuss.”

                Pitch nodded, “Good,” he replied coolly.

                Jack made to go off in another direction, hoping to get out of what was sure to become some sort of business war zone, but Pitch stopped him with a hand on his shoulder.

                The man leaned down, mouth set in a thin line as he growled under his breath, “Do _not_ wander off.”

                Jack jerked out of his grasp, rolling his eyes before going back to the toy shelf he had been examining before.

                Well, at the very least he’d get to hear what this whole thing was about to begin with.

                “So,” Bunnymund began, leaning back against the front counter, “what’s this business thing you wanna talk about so badly?”

                Jack saw Pitch shoot the man an annoyed glare out of the corner of his eye.

                “Dropping all pretenses,” Pitch said, directing his attention to North, “I think we both know that things are not running all that smoothly for your company right now. Am I correct, Nicholas?”

                Jack’s eyebrows nearly shot up at the mention of North’s first name.

                Wait, Nicholas? As in ‘jolly old Saint Nick’?

Jack snorted to himself. The dude really _was_ Santa Clause.

North just sighed. “Iz business, yes, Pitch? There are good timez and hard times. Dis iz one of the hard timez, yes. I do not deny that.”

Jack felt himself tense, but kept his eyes firmly glued to the shelf in front of him.

“Yes.” Jack could practically hear the scowl in Pitch’s voice. “But from what I’ve seen, and from what your associates and colleagues have told me, this is not some temporary problem, is it? According to them, your entire industry is losing quite a bit of money every year.”

Jack risked a glance back at the three men, and was surprised to see the mirth drained form North’s eyes, and unsurprised to see Bunny practically baring his teeth.

“I am well aware, Pitch,” North answered gravely. “But iz not something I cannot handle. We will pick ourselves back up, no?”

Pitch clasped his hands behind his back. “Are you really so sure about that?” He inquired mildly.

“Just get to your point already, Black,” Aster snarled. “You’re pushin’ something so you might as well stop beating around the bush and put it out in the open.”

Jack now had his full attention directed toward the three men, curious as to what was actually happening.

Pitch just shot the man a dry glare, but shrugged. “Very well then,” he said, turning back to North. “Your company is going bankrupt. You don’t have nearly the amount of currency you need going through your system. Not enough revenue means not enough money to put into products or workers, and even with all of the budget cuts and the few worker losses you have allowed, the industry is still spending more money than it can afford. And I believe both of us know how nearly impossible it is to bounce back from bankruptcy.”

_As cold and blunt as ever,_ Jack deadpanned to himself.

North was scowling. “I’m aware of situation, Pitch. But what iz your proposal?”

“Simple,” the man said, examining his fingernails, “allow me to buy out the industry.”

“ _What?_ ” Bunny practically screeched, while North remained deathly silent.

“Of course, only the main industry, such as the carpeting companies and home appliance and furniture industries,” Pitch continued, clearly unfazed. “I have no interest in your little… toy companies. Besides, those are the few remaining that are actually stable.”

The silence that rang throughout the room was deafening.

Jack shifted uncomfortably, turning his attention away from them again. He wasn’t entirely sure what all of that really meant…

“Pitch,” North finally broke the silence gravely, “you cannot honestly just ask me to give up entire industry to you.”

“The fact being, North,” the lanky man replied, not missing a beat, “you can’t afford to not take my offer. And I believe we both know that.”

“Like hell,” Bunny snarled, pushing himself away from the counter. “We ain’t going to let you just waltz in here and act like you can buy us out.”

“So you’d be willing to risk your entire company going bankrupt?” Pitch challenged. “And not only the companies on the edge of your industry, but eventually the damage will strike much closer to home. Do you believe that this little shop you have running will be able to stand after your entire industry is gone? No. And after your entire livelihood is gone, and all of you are in millions upon millions of dollars in debt, what are you going to do?” Pitch turned to meet North’s gaze directly. “And how do you plan to keep your little home running after all your funding is gone? Do you know what happens when you can no longer afford to clothe and feed that many children? They’re taken _away_. And the foster system doesn’t care much if they break up families. Are you honestly telling me you’re willing to risk _that_ , Nicholas?”

Bunny and North stood rooted to the spot, neither replying for a long stretch.

North eventually glanced at Aster, who just glared at Black as he stood, waiting patiently for their reply.

“What would you do with company if we sold it to you?” North asked, voice rough.

Pitch merely shrugged. “I would look for the best solution to make money off of it. Though I don’t see how that would matter to you since at that point it would be _my_ company.”

“Stop with the bullshit,” Bunny growled. “I think we all know _exactly_ what you’d plan on doin’ if we handed the industry over to you. You think we’re goin’ to be okay with that?”

Pitch merely shrugged. “Are you  
more at ease with the concept of losing everything you own and ensuring the destruction of your own livelihood as well as everything that depends on it?”

Neither answered.

Pitch nodded. “I thought not. You see, gentlemen, there are truly no other options on the table at the moment.”

North just sighed, shaking his head. “Give us time, Pitch. Time to think and see what we can do. There iz board of directors meeting in week or so. We will wait and see until then, fair?”

“Yes,” Pitch replied coolly. “That seems plenty fair to me. Luckily I have no other appointments for a good time, so it should be no problem. But I do intend to continue this conversation with you before that meeting.”

North nodded. “Yes, yes. I am not in tomorrow, but after dat there should not be problem.”

“Very well then,” Pitch dipped his head in acknowledgment. “Gentlemen, it was nice talking with you. I hope you will give my offer more consideration, until we’re able to meet again.”

Pitch motioned toward a dumbfounded Jack, standing frozen in the corner. “Jack,” he called to the boy, “it’s time to go.”

Jack slowly felt his feet shuffle forward, as he still tried to snap out of shock.

Just… what the hell had all of that been?

He followed Pitch out the door, but not before turning to see North lean against the front counter and scrub a hand down his face wearily.

As the door shut behind him, Jack couldn’t help but feel as if his stomach had dropped to his feet. He wasn’t really sure what he had expected to see from Pitch’s ‘business offer,’ but… well he couldn’t say he had expected anything _different_ , he supposed.

But he remained quiet, even as he slid into the back of the car with Pitch, shutting the door firmly behind him.

~*~*~*~

Pitch sat out on the large balcony as the sun set, reading.

It had certainly been a long day, and far more productive than he had hoped. But something still didn’t sit well with him…

He did have matters he could be attending to, but at the moment, he couldn’t find it within himself to want to do anything but read for the rest of the day.

Pitch was so engrossed in his book that he almost didn’t hear Jack as he stepped outside onto the balcony.

He jumped as the boy cleared his throat, genuinely surprised at being caught off guard.

                Pitch turned to the boy, raising a brow in question.

                But Jack’s attention was on the evening sky as he walked out onto the patio.

                “Huh,” the boy said, “you know I actually haven’t been out here yet. It’s actually kinda cool.”

                Pitch nodded absentmindedly. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

                Jack walked over to the balcony ledge, dusty the snow that had fallen just that afternoon off the side, before jumping up.

                Pitch immediately felt himself tense up as the boy balanced precariously on the ledge before sitting, facing the man and letting his feet swing about aimlessly.

                “Please get down from there,” Pitch gritted out, pinching the bridge of his nose. “The last thing I need right now is a repeat of the other day.”

                Jack just rolled his eyes. “Hey, I was fine. It wasn’t until you started messing with me that I almost fell.” The boy thought for a moment. “Hmm… Actually, that pretty much sums up most of what’s happened since I met you.”

                Pitch shot the boy a glare before sighing, shaking his head. “Could you please just get down? You know how I feel about heights.”

                Jack continued to swing his legs about, giving it mock thought, before changing the subject. “You know, if you don’t like heights, why are you in the penthouse? It’s kina… the highest room you can get.”

                Pitch rolled his eyes. “Why do you think? It’s the nicest accommodations they have to offer. It’s not ridiculously cramped and uncomfortable.”

                Jack cocked his head to the side. “Yeah… But you’re just one person. Isn’t this, I don’t know, a bit too much space?”

                Pitch shrugged. “I honestly don’t believe there is such a thing.

                This time, Jack just rolled his eyes at the man, before falling oddly silent.

                As a matter of fact, the boy had been oddly silent nearly all day. He hadn’t said much after their conversation this morning, and had even less to say after the confrontation at the shop.

                Pitch was honestly a bit concerned…

                “So what was that all about, huh?” Jack asked suddenly, breaking the tense silence, his expression unreadable.

                Pitch glanced back up at him, confused. “What was what about?”

                “The whole ‘failing business’ thing,” Jack said, gesturing vaguely, “back there? With North? What did any of that even mean?”

                Pitch pursed his lips, giving an uninterested shrug. “It’s exactly as I said. Their corporate business is failing; they don’t have the money to keep it running anymore. And if they don’t do something fast, the entire industry, including their personal shop, will fall into bankruptcy and ruin.”

                “Yeah, yeah, I got that,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “I meant… what you were saying about wanting to do with it… You want to buy the business form him?”

                Pitch nodded. “The majority of stockholdings as well as the independent businesses and factories that work under them, yes.”

                “But what does that _mean_?” Jack pressed.

                “It means that North would be handing over nearly the entirety of his company to me, leaving him with merely his toy making industry here in Burgess and whatever few other shops he owns around the region,” Pitch replied, steepling his fingers, as he met Jack’s gaze head on.

                Jack’s brow furrowed. “But if the business if failing, why do you want to buy it?”

                “ _Because_ , Jack,” Pitch sighed, “It is not bankrupt _yet_. And if I were to buy it now, I could break the cooperation into many separate parts and sell each to the highest bidder. I could easily bring in twice the amount of money with it like that, than I would buy it for if it were whole.”

                Jack frowned, feet swinging back and forth from his perched position on the ledge. “But what about everyone who works in those companies? Will they keep their jobs?”

                Pitch merely lifted a shoulder. “Perhaps, perhaps not. Most of the factories though would have to be sold by parts, not as a whole. And many of the sub-industries would have to let a good number of employees go in order to make it more appealing to buyers.”

                Jack glanced up at Pitch warily. “But doesn’t that mean all those people would be out of a job?”

                “More than likely, yes,” Pitch replied coldly. “But that’s a matter of business. It can hardly be helped.”

                Jack glanced away, clearly unsure how to process that.

                Pitch had to fight back a sigh.

                It was always hard to try and explain these sorts of things to people outside of the business world. But a harsh reality was just that. And no one, despite what North was convinced of, could truly escape that in his profession.

                “So,” Jack began, bringing his gaze back to Pitch, “If the whole thing is because North doesn’t have the money to keep the industry running, why don’t you… I don’t know, help him out?”

                Pitch raised a brow at that. “Pardon?”

                Jack shrugged, worrying his bottom lip. “You know, give him the money he needs to keep it running? You could do that, right? I mean… it’s not like you don’t have money to spare.”

                Pitch just sighed, shaking his head. “It doesn’t work that way, Jack.”

                The boy frowned. “Why not? He’s your friend isn’t he? Shouldn’t you-”

                “First of all,” Pitch cut in with cold disdain, “I’d hardly say that I would still consider myself friends with North after ten years of minimal contact. Besides, friendship is hardly the point. It’s _business_ , Jack. _Not_ charity. If I were to just give out money to any company that needed it, I’d be the one in a tight spot. That’s simply not how the game _works_.”

                “So…what?” Jacked asked, biting. “You’re either going to let North’s company go down the drain, or take it from him and more or less destroy an industry he dedicated a good portion of his life to? Because… that’s _business?_ ”

                Pitch never took his eyes off the boy as he propped his chin up in his palm, leaning against the arm of the awning chair. “More or less, yes.”

                “Ah,” Jack said, nodding, and letting his eyes wander, thoughtful.

                Pitch waited patiently for the boy to collect his thoughts, considering how he highly doubted this was the end of the conversation.

                He didn’t have to wait long.

                “So,” Jack began again, conversationally, “You’re like a whore, right?”

                Pitch nearly chocked at the boy’s words. “W-what?” he spluttered.

                The boy just shrugged, leaning back against the railing. “Yeah. You both screw people for money.”

                Pitch couldn’t help but gawk at the boy.

                Of all that anyone had ever said to him-

                The man felt rage bubble up inside of him.

                Who was this boy, this-this _brat_ , to _judge_ him? To act as if Pitch were somehow below him for what he did?

                _Well,_ Pitch thought bitterly, _If that’s how it’s going to be then…_

                “Hmm, I suppose you’re right,” Pitch practically snarled, viciously. “Then again, if I’m no better than a _common prostitute_ , perhaps I shouldn’t have interfered with your chance at the job. I’m sure you yourself could have taken up the title of _whore,_ for whomever those men pleased, quite well! Obviously you would have been equally satisfied _either way!_ ”

                As soon as the words left Pitch’s mouth he regretted it.

                But the damage was already done…

                Jack froze, his eyes wide.

                Pitch felt afraid to breath, for fear of somehow setting the boy off.

                Slowly, he noticed the tremors that began traveling up the boy’s arm, as his breathing became momentarily labored, stuttering in his chest.

                Pitch felt something twist inside of him.

                _Stupid_ , he chastised himself.

 He wished he could take the words back. He hadn’t even meant to respond so… horribly. He had merely been angry.

                And now, Jack seemed on the verge of utterly breaking.

                All because Pitch had to make an _ass_ out of himself by bringing up his almost forced stint in prostitution.

                “Jack,” he began reaching out a hand, only to stop short.

                The boy’s nostrils suddenly flared, and his eyes focused again, narrowing on Pitch. “So,” he sneered, “that’s how it is, huh?”

                Pitch stood, frantically trying to think of a way to explain his actions. “No, that’s-it’s not,” Pitch couldn’t seem to find the right words. “Jack, I didn’t at all mean-”

                “I think I understand _exactly_ what you meant,” the boy growled, attempting to brush past him, hands balled into fists.

                Pitch reached out without thinking, grabbing the boy’s arm.

                “Jack,” Pitch tried again. “I promise you, I-”

                “ _Let go of me_ ,” the boy snarled, ripping his arm out of Pitch’s grasp.

                Pitch backed up a step as the boy stormed past him, into the hotel.

                The man followed at a slower pace, hoping Jack would calm down enough to talk to him.

                If there was one thing he genuinely hated, it was apologizing for something such as this. But he was desperate, and his pride suddenly seemed like a trifle matter.

               “I’m sorry-”

“I’m going to bed,” Jack cut him off with a grumbled, before slamming the door shut to his room, leaving Pitch in dead silence.

The man sunk down onto the nearest armchair, resting his head in his hands.

How had this, _all_ of this, this _entire situation_ , gotten so far out of hand?

               

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... Really not sure how I like this one. I really liked some of the exchanges, but I just felt like I couldn't get some of the dialogue right. Like you have no idea how many times I wrote and rewrote the first and last scene. And it was literally just a few sentences that gave me trouble in each! But overall, I hope even with my (probably failed) attempt at angst that I kept everyone in character. Especially Pitch in this last scene.   
> But I really do hope you liked it, and I really am sorry it's late. I'm also sorry for all the mistakes you probably just endured. I'll try to go back later and fix them. But if you notice any, feel free to let me know so that I can fix it.  
> Thank you to all of you that have stuck with this story and have left comments, kudos, bookmarked, or just read this story. You guys are awesome!   
> Hopefully I'll have chapter ten by this time next week. The good news is I don't have an overloaded schedule, so hopefully I'll get a lot of writing in. Until next time, thanks guys!


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of last nights argument is shown in the morning light.   
> ...And it's not pretty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really have no excuse for why this is late, beyond the fact that the first two parts of this chapter were hell to write. Sorry! Hopefully, the chapter makes up for it.

                Pitch scrubbed a hand through his hair, staring at the door in front of him. He had attempted to knock nearly three times now, but he kept losing his nerve before he could actually go through with it.

                He didn’t know what he was supposed to do honestly.

                Last night’s conversation had gone… well _, horrifically_ , to put it lightly.

                Pitch truly still couldn’t believe he had said such a thing to the boy.

                In his defense though, Jack _had_ stepped out of line as well with his little ‘whore’ comment. Really, that had been completely uncalled for.

                …But that still hardly excused his reaction. There was nothing, _nothing,_ that would ever justify suggesting he should have just _let_ those men take the boy. That he should have just _allowed_ them to- to-

                Pitch drew in a shaky breath.         

_Calm down_ , he chided himself, _it’s over, there’s no reason to panic He’s safe._

                But he still needed to fix this.

                Their relationship hadn’t exactly been going smoothly before last night, but at least it had been something. Now… well.

                He’d have to do something about this, or neither of them would ever move past it.

                He had stayed up nearly the entire night, pacing across his room, unable to sleep while trying to think of some way to apologize to the boy.

                But as experience showed, words meant little to Jack, so he would have to be a little more creative.

                And if his only solution was something that put him a bit out of his comfort zone well then… it was at least worth a shot.

                Pitch took a deep breath, steeling himself, before knocking on the large wooden door.

                He paused, waiting for a response.

                When none came he frowned, knocking once more.

                “Jack?” He called, listening intently for any signs of the boy.

                When he still didn’t receive an answer, he glanced about the large room.

                He hadn’t seen Jack on the couch this morning, so he assumed that meant to boy was in the bedroom…

                He cracked the door open, and paused for a moment, before braving a glance inside.

                Pitch eyes scanned the bed, finding it as empty and immaculate as the first day they had arrived.

                He frowned, and was about to close to door to look for the boy further, when his eyes fell on the loveseat next to the window.

                Pitch’s crinkled in confusion at the sight of Jack curled up on the seat, still fast asleep.

                What was it about this boy and sleeping on an actual _bed_?

                He sighed, stepping into the room, and flicking on the light.

                Jack just shifted, mumbling something in his sleep as he tucked his head further into the arm of the chair.

                Pitch considered approaching the boy, but recalling the incident from the other day, he thought better of it.

                “Jack,” Pitch called again, a bit louder this time.

                The boy suddenly jerked awake, eyes wide as he flailed, nearly falling off the chair.

                Jack gripped the armrest of the loveseat, before letting out a shaky breath. It took a moment for the boy to collect himself, eyes flicking between Pitch and the window in front of him. But once he had finally regained his bearings he turned to face Pitch fully, expression decidedly blank.

                “What?” the boy asked, voice monotone.

                Pitch cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable and a little unsure. “I was ah- I was just wandering if you’d like to go out for the day.”

                Jack’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to face the window. “If it’s another one of your little ‘business trips’ then forget it.”

                “It- it’s not,” Pitch said, stumbling a bit.

                Damnit all, why had his ability to articulate anything suddenly abandon him when he needed it the most?

                Jack didn’t bother to turn back around.

                Pitch took a deep breath. “I actually was wondering if you’d like to go to a neighboring town. There’s an amusement park around there. If you’re interested, we could- we could go.”

                Jack finally turned back to look at him, expression still neutral.

                A few moments of tense silence passed, and just as Pitch was beginning to regret his decision, Jack shrugged.

                “Whatever,” the boy deadpanned, before turning back to the window again.

                Pitch blinked in surprise.

                Well… that had been easier than he thought.

                He cleared his throat again. “Good,” he said. “We’ll be leaving in half an hour then, will you be ready?”

                Jack just nodded. “Yeah, sure.”

                Pitch paused, worrying at his bottom lip, before nodding as well. “Alright then,” he said, closing the door softly.

                The man walked back to his room, and slumped down as the door closed behind him, letting out a breath of relief.

                Well. At the very least it was a start.

~*~*~*~

                Jack took a deep breath before pulling his blue hoodie over his head.

                It had taken him a few moments to stop shaking all together after Pitch had finally left, and to even start getting ready to face the day.

                He knew what Pitch was doing, of course he did.

                Jack didn’t want an apology, he didn’t want to hear how ‘sorry’ the bastard was, and he didn’t want some ‘heartfelt’ confession about how much he ‘regretted’ saying what he had.

                At the very least, Black seemed to have figured out _that_ much.

                But now apparently Pitch thought he could _bribe_ him to accept his apology.

                Jack snorted at the thought.

                Yeah, _that_ was going to work out.

                Not that he really cared. If Pitch wanted to waste his money trying to buy some sort of ‘forgiveness’, then that was his business.

                His loss was Jack’s gain, as far as the boy was concerned.

                As nice a gesture as Pitch may have thought his offer was, it didn’t undo two hours spent shaking and gasping for breath on the bathroom floor. It didn’t make the reality behind his words any less real, and it didn’t stop the truth from sinking in.

                He had never really let it register, what had almost happened that day in the alley, never really thought about what it would have meant if Pitch hadn’t shown up. He just blew it off every time it came to mind.

He told himself he would have figured a way out of it. He would have ran. He would have been strong enough to stop them.

                …But in truth, he had no idea what would have happened.

                No. That was a lie. He _did_ know what would have happened. That’s why he had avoided thinking about it.

                He had been cornered, trapped, and outmatched. In reality, they had him beat before the game had even begun.

                He hadn’t had a chance in hell of making it out of there.

                And he hadn’t- had never really… _allowed_ himself to think of what exactly would have happened, if Pitch hadn’t shown up. Never really thought to consider what would have happened had the man just brushed off his existence altogether, like everyone else had.

                …Until last night.

                It was the first time he had really been forced to admit the truth to himself. And it wasn’t pretty.

                He had been waiting, the entire time, for the other shoe to drop. For Pitch to indicate just _why_ he had _really_ wanted Jack there to begin with. Or for the man to just get sick of him and let him off the hook early, whichever happened first.

                But out of everything he hadn’t expected… _that_.

                Out of everything he had prepared himself for, he hadn’t been prepared for Pitch to say he should have left him that day. That he should have just let Bruce, and his idiot brother, take him to Rod.

                He hadn’t been ready to hear Pitch say that he should have let them just whore him out to anyone they pleased. And he hadn’t been prepared for him to say that Jack deserved it.

                And he didn’t even know _why_ , why of _all things_ , that he had felt _betrayed_ by that.

                Why had he thought that Pitch believed he was worth anything else?

                Maybe… maybe it had been because Pitch had saved him when no one else had cared to interfere… Maybe it was because he had pushed for Jack to talk with him, because he tried give him something constant, when no one else could be bothered… Maybe it was the way he had stood up for him against Bunny back at the shop, or bothered to be annoyingly concerned about what he was up to.

                He still didn’t know how to feel about any of that. About anything Pitch had done for him. He wasn’t used to it; he didn’t even know _how_ to respond. Not to mention the fact that he still didn’t understand Pitch’s motivation for anything he had done to begin with.

                …But he supposed it didn’t matter now.

                Pitch could say whatever he wanted now, but it didn’t change anything. And it didn’t take back the fact that he had _meant_ what he said.

                The reality of everything finally hitting him, of what Pitch had said, and of what it had meant, had been overwhelming. It had left him panicking and dry heaving in front of the bathroom toilet, locked off from whatever the world wanted to hit him with next.

                Panic attacks weren’t _entirely_ … uncommon. They had started about a year before he had left the home, so he had learned over time how to handle himself during one. But that didn’t mean that they were any less unpleasant.

                The most he found he could do is lock himself away from the world, and just ride it out while letting the panic attack run its course.

                …Or just wait until he blacked out form lack of air, whichever happened first.

                After last night, he honestly didn’t feel up to going anywhere, but he supposed it didn’t really matter. Sitting in the penthouse all day wasn’t going to do much to help, in fact it would probably make things worse.

                …And he’d never actually been to an amusement park before. He couldn’t help but be a bit curious as to what it was really all about. The closest he had ever gotten was a carnival that he had been taken to when he was eleven, not long before they finally put him in a group home for the first time.

                It had been fun, but he didn’t remember all that much about it.

                So if he couldn’t just stay here and stew in misery for the rest of the day, an amusement park didn’t sound like a bad alternative.

                …At least, that’s why he assumed he had agreed to go. When he had answered, he hadn’t really thought it through.

                He just hoped he didn’t end up regretting this. Because as interesting as a day at an amusement park sounded, he would also be spending it with Pitch. And that alone was enough to make him cringe, especially because he’d have to spend over an hour in the same car with the man.

                _Well, maybe I’ll get lucky and be able to lose him in the park,_ Jack thought bitterly.

                …But he doubted it.

                Jack just sighed, shaking his head, and running his hands through his hair, ruffling it into place, before stepping out into the foyer.

                He couldn’t’ help but let out a breath of relief when he noticed that Pitch wasn’t waiting for him already. At least he had a few minutes longer without being subjected to the bastard’s presence.

               But before he had the chance to collapse on the sofa, and consider catching up on lost sleep, Pitch stepped out of his temporary bedroom in all his tailor suited glory.

               Jack couldn’t stop his incredulous snort. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

               Pitch glanced at him in surprise. “Is there something wrong….?” He asked, raising a brow.

               Jack just bit down on his lip and shook his head, trying to keep from snickering. “No, nothing at all,” he said, keeping his voice devoid of any inflection. “Just, you know,” he waved his hand in Pitch’s general direction.

               Pitch frowned in consternation, looking down at himself before glancing back to Jack in confusion.

               The boy just rolled his eyes. “Are you seriously going to an amusement park dressed like _that_?”

                “What do you mean?” The man asked, glancing down at his attire again.

               “The fact that you even have to ask that is sad,” Jack said, shaking his head.

                Pitch pursed his lips, obviously a bit flustered, unsure what he was missing. “I don’t see the problem.”

                “Obviously,” Jack muttered under his breath, before directing his attention back to Pitch. “Don’t you own a pair of jeans or something?”

                Pitch just blinked at him owlishly. “Why on earth would I need jeans on a business trip?”

                Jack just sighed. “Let me rephrase that: Do you have any casual clothes that won’t leave me embarrassed just to be seen with you?”

                The man thought for a moment before nodding hesitantly, “I suppose I could find something.”

                “Great,” the boy said, grimacing. “So can you just, you know, change? So I’m not _overly_ humiliated just by being seen in public with you?”

                Pitch shot him a half-hearted glare before letting out a frustrated huff and trudging back into the room, shoulders hunched in defeat.

                On any other day, it may have actually seemed funny, but Jack just really couldn’t bring himself to laugh.

                It almost felt painfully normal; Pitch’s failing at something so fundamentally ordinary and more or less making an ass out of himself was something that he certainly would expect of the man. But the interaction still left a bitter taste in his mouth, one he couldn’t seem to shake even with the reminder of their regular banter.

                He just grimaced, and sat down in a nearby chair, learning his head against the wall.

                Jack didn’t have to wait long before Pitch came out of his room again, this time dressed in khaki slacks and a black button down shirt. 

                Jack stared at the man for a moment, before groaning and begrudgingly grumbling, “Whatever… it’ll work.”

                Pitch still frowned, but just nodded. “Alright, then we can head out. I just need to inform Boris that we won’t be requiring his assistance today.”

                Jack just nodded, and didn’t bother to wait for Pitch to say anything else before walking out the door.

                He tried to pretend that he didn’t feel Pitch’s solemn gaze burning holes in his back.

~*~*~*~

                The car ride was agonizingly silent… and awkward.

                Pitch had attempted to start a conversation with Jack several times over the past half hour, but the boy had made it very clear that he had no interest in participating. After a few one word responses, and five minutes of the silent treatment, he had given up.

                Jack was constantly getting more and more restless. Usually the boy just released whatever pent up energy he had through simple movement, tapping his foot or his fingers, or by wringing his hands. Anything of the sort.

                But now it seemed he simply couldn’t keep still for more than a few minutes, and couldn’t decide whether he’d rather have the window rolled up or down.

                Pitch was trying his best to not get irritated at the boy, for he knew that car rides tended to put Jack on edge. He didn’t want to end up snapping at Jack and end up making things worse than they already were (if that was even possible).

                Pitch sighed, trying to think of some way to relieve the oppressive silence.

He still had yet to attempt a proper apology, and honestly he was a little afraid of what may happen if he did.

                …But he supposed now would be as good a time as any to at least _try_ and cover some ground regarding his massive screw up from the night before.

                Pitch took a deep breath, before turning to face Jack, who was currently staring resolutely at the headrest in front of him, fingers drumming against the car door.

                “Jack,” Pitch said, softly, trying to gain the boy’s attention. “I am-”

                “Don’t,” the boy cut him off, his expression and tone giving nothing away.

                Pitch startled a bit, and drew back, frowning. “I just-”

                Jack interrupted him, harshly. “I said, _don’t_ , okay?”

                Pitch just stared at the boy for a long time, heart sinking in his chest before he finally turned back around.

                He suddenly felt far too old for… well much of anything really. Both too old and too young. He couldn’t help but feel both weary and clueless as to how to clean up his own mess.

                Jack’s rejection stung, much more than he cared to admit, but he wasn’t really sure what more he had expected the boy to say. Obviously, Jack knew that he had been trying to apologize, meaning he had probably guessed that this little outing was a different sort of haphazard attempt at an apology. The only problem was that the boy obviously wasn’t interested in listening…

                Pitch just honestly hoped that Jack could at least accept the gesture for what it was. He doubted the boy would forgive him, but at the very least, he’d get the apology.

                Before he had the chance to contemplate things any further, Pitch’s attention was drawn away by a sharp intake of breath.

                He glanced over to see Jack gripping the back of the seat in front of him, white knuckled, his breath stuttering in his chest.

                “Jack?” he asked, worriedly.

                The driver glanced at them from the corner of his eye, but didn’t say anything.

                Jack just exhaled harshly, looking out the window for a moment before demanding, “Pull over at that gas station.”

                Both the driver and Pitch shot him incredulous looks, not sure how to react for a moment.

                “What?” the driver asked, obviously confused as he glanced between the boy and Pitch.

                “Just do it,” Jack yelled, forehead resting against the headrest in front of him, his fingers digging into the leather of the seats.

                “Pull over,” Pitch agreed, nodding to the driver, and pointing to the station that was coming up on their right.

                The man just grimaced, before turning the wheel sharply, just barely braking in time to make the turn into the convenient store parking lot.

                Jack opened the back door and had hopped out before the car had even come to a complete stop. He ran straight for the store, brushing past a couple walking out, and disappeared inside.

                Pitch untangled himself from his seatbelt as quickly as possible before stepping out of the car as well, ignoring the drivers disbelieving gaze.

                He pushed his way into the building, just barely catching glimpse of Jack disappearing behind a bend at the back of the store.

                Pitch pushed his way past several customers, not quite caring who he ran into as he made his way to follow the boy. He was so single minded in his focus that he nearly crashed into the door marked ‘restrooms’ after rounding the corner he had seen Jack disappear behind.

                He paused, noticing it was a single stalled bathroom, and slowly extended a hand. He attempted to turn the door handle, only to find it locked.

                Pitch held his hand up to knock on the door, hoping to ask if Jack was alright. But the question was answered before he could even ask it, by the sound of retching on the other side of the door.

                The man blinked in surprise, eyes wide. He couldn’t help but feel caught between letting whatever was happening with Jack run its course, and wanting to try to do what he could to care for the teen.

                Pitch grimaced, as he took a step back.

                It wouldn’t do him any good to try to interfere now; especially considering the fact that he doubted Jack was in any state to unlock the bathroom door even if Pitch demanded the boy let him in. Not to mention the fact, that he had a feeling the teen wouldn’t take too kindly to his offer.

                So he allowed himself to back off, and give Jack whatever space he may need.

                He breathed out a small sigh as he leaned against the opposite wall, trying to let his thoughts finally catch up with the situation.

                Pitch wondered what could have happened.

                Sure the boy had been fidgety and on edge the entire car trip, but Pitch had thought that was just because of his minor claustrophobia. He hadn’t believed the boy could get car sick… then again, Jack really hadn’t been in cars very often, and certainly not for this long.

                He just hoped the boy would be alright to at the very least get back in the car... Hopefully this also wasn’t anything to severe, otherwise…

                Pitch groaned at the idea of having to visit a doctor’s office, or worse, a hospital. He hadn’t been in one for nearly nine years now, and he was fine without going to one now.

                …But if Jack needed a doctor, then Pitch was going to damn well make sure he got one. Both of their ensuring discomforts be damned.

                Pitch grimaced as he waited for Jack, continually feeling more and more on edge.

                Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea…

                Just as he was starting to believe that they should cancel the entire outing, Jack came out of the bathroom looking a little worse for wear.

                Pitch surged forward at the sight of him, unthinkingly about to place a hand on the boy’s shoulder. But Jack stepped out of his path, drawing in on himself.

                Pitch stopped, and slowly lowered his hand as he stood straight.

                “Are you alright?” Pitch asked, voice low. “What’s the matter? Do you need anythi-”

                “The only thing I _need_ ,” Jack cut in harshly, “is for you to leave me alone. Just…” The boy trailed off, taking a deep breath. “Just give me a minute, okay?”

                Pitch stared at the boy, and had to swallow down any indignant remark or concern before nodding hesitantly.

                If the boy wanted space, he’d give it to him; he wasn’t going to try to force his hand, especially in a situation like this.

                Jack wandered away, for all the world, just seeming to be drifting aimlessly.

                But Pitch watched the rise and fall of the boy’s chest, how his breathing had yet to even out, how his shoulders were tensed, and how his hands had yet to stop shaking.

                He didn’t know what was going on with the boy, but he suddenly got the sinking feeling that it was a little more severe than car sickness… and more than likely had nothing to do with his physical health…

                Pitch sighed, before making a tactical retreat back to the car, since he doubted Jack really wanted his presence lurking about.

                The man sighed as he slid into the leather seats of the car, limbs feeling heavy.

                The driver glanced at him, frowning. “Are you alright sir?” the man inquired.

                Pitch just grimaced, but nodded. “Yes, I’m fine. I am worried about Jack though…”

                The driver wisely didn’t say anything further and just turned to turn the car back on.

                Pitch leaned his head against the window as he waited to catch sight of Jack.

                Surprisingly, he didn’t have to wait too long. Within the next three minutes, Jack walked out of the store, a Sprite in hand, and his other hand shoved into his hoodie pocket.

                Jack threw opened the door to the car, before sliding into the seat next to him, his brow drawn in concentration.

                The boy just sighed as he closed the door behind him. “Come on,” he said, pulling on the seatbelt, “let’s just get back on the road.”

                Pitch eyed him cautiously, and the driver looked to Pitch for confirmation.

                “Are you sure you’re alright? If you’re not feeling well-”

                “I’m _fine_ ,” the boy snapped. “Can we just go?”

                Pitch stared at him for a moment longer, before sighing. “Fine, alright,” he conceded, nodding to the driver.

                The car was back on the road within moments, and the silence ringing throughout the car was back to being nearly deafening. It was only broken by the sound of Jack’s Sprite bottle opening, letting out a slight fizz.

                Pitch paused for a moment, before looking back at Jack, then to the Sprite in hand.

                How had he…?

                “Jack…” he began cautiously, “Did you _buy_ that soda?”

                He certainly didn’t _remember_ giving Jack any money…

                The boy just tossed him a glance from the corner of his eye, shrugging.

                “Maybe.”

                Pitch just groaned, propping his head up on his hand.

                Way, _way_ in over his head.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm really unsatisfied with this chapter. I had a lot of difficulty writing the first two parts, and after rewriting the entire scenes three times, I finally gave up, and just went with it. I don't know if any of it sounded natural or in character at all, but I did my best. (If anyone has tips as to how I could improve stuff like this, it's always appreciated.) And I'm sorry it's late. Like I said, it took forever just to write this short little chapter, because I just couldn't get the wording of anything right. It was originally supposed to have four parts to it, so I ended up cutting this chapter short. Both so I could just post it, and because it was already long, if I had written the rest of it ,it would have been overwhelming. But I hope despite it being short, late, and mainly Jack and Pitch's thoughts with very little action, that y'all still enjoyed it.  
> Hopefully I can have the next chapter up by next Monday. Thanks to all of you who have left kudos, comments, bookmarked, or just read this story! All of you are amazing!

**Author's Note:**

> I loved Rise of the Guardians, and I haven't been able to get the movie out of my head since I saw it. I especially loved the dynamic between Pitch and Jack, and I've loved some of the fics about their relationship. Though honestly, I can't say I'm much of a BlackIce fan. I really only see Pitch as being a mentor, or fatherly figure to Jack. See, I really do believe Pitch meant it when he said he wanted Jack to be a part of his family. Especially after learning about his past (sobs). I think that whether he remembers it or not, a part of him still feels like a father, and he still wants that relationship with someone. And of course, Jack is an adorable little shit who just really needs some parental love. Anyways, with that said, I'm pretty sure I came up with this idea while watching Pretty Woman, though I'm not sure how, considering this isn't really a romance story at all. I guess businessman!Pitch just sort of spoke to me. But I this is more or less my first story here, so we'll see how it goes. Hopefully I'll keep up with it. Luckily though, I already have a few chapters written. Yay! Concrit is always appreciated. I shall hopefully have the next chapter posted by the end of this week. See you then!


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